


Teacher's Pet

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: M/M, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregory Lestrade is appointed as the new sophomore English teacher at Jenson highschool. He wasn't expecting much out of the job. It just seemed like any other position he had acquired. However, one of his fellow English teachers catches his eye, and Greg finds it difficult to subtract his personal affairs from work. And similarly Mycroft Holmes starts to wonder if he is the one distracted and not his students. After all, the newbie is kinda cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Newbie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again :) for people that have read my work before, welcome back! I greatly appreciate all the support given towards my writing, and I hope to continue to please you. This story was originally a prompt given to me by a tumblr user, and I thought it would be a funny story to write. This first chapter is pretty much Greg's first impression of the school, but it doesn't really say much about Mycroft. It has a little bit of dialogue, but it's not very stimulating. However, every story needs a beginning, and this is mine. I hope you decide to read further.

"Right this way, Mr. Lestrade." 

Greg wasn't expecting high school to seem so calm. Honestly, he didn't even know what he was expecting. It had been so long since his day. But you watch all those movies with jocks walking down the halls like gods with cheerleaders hanging on their arms and kids smoking in the corners by the trash cans and in the bathroom stalls...well it changes your perspective. It might make you fear teenagers a little bit actually. However, it was just a normal facility as far as Greg could see. And the kids appeared normal as well. They were just walking to and from classes, there were the sounds of lockers slamming, slight conversation and whispering to each other in the hallways. He noticed a few couples holding hands as they accompanied each other to the next period, but none seemed to have the intention of drawing attention to themselves. A few students stopped to process his presence after he accidentally brushed past them, but for the most part nobody acknowledged Mr. Lestrade at all as Principal Jackson led him down to a large room at the end of the hall. There was a plaque hanging above the door that read "Main Office."

"Good afternoon, Debby," Principal Jackson greeted the secretary upon entering.

"There's a stack of paperwork for the transfer students coming in next month on your desk, the request forms for new biology textbooks for next term are in a file labeled "export", and your wife called-your son got an A on his spelling test ," the woman replied in a near robotic tone without even pausing to notice the principal wasn't alone or even look up from her computer screen.

"Excellent, thanks Deb," the principal said joyfully and moved past her, whispering for her to write a note to remind him to give a gold star to his son when he got home from work.

He continued on to his office. Deborah, as Greg would come to know her as, finally glanced up at him and repositioned her glasses, but she said nothing. She twitched her nose and returned to tapping away at her keyboard. Greg could already tell that they weren't going to be associating very much. But he noticed as he walked by that she had candy crush open on a second tab for when her boss was out of her vision, so maybe she wasn't as strict as she seemed. But still...

"Mr. Lestrade?," Greg hurried to catch up like a child ordered by his mother to keep up while out shopping. "No dilly dallying. We do have business to attend to." 

"Yes, of course, sir," Greg stammered.

The principal nodded and led him into a room labeled "Principal" in which there was a large desk with a chair nestled directly in line with the middle of the desk located a few feet away for a student or visitor to sit. The principal's desk had an office chair behind it whereas the other chair was merely a plastic chair as one would find in a classroom. It didn't look overly inviting.

"Have a seat," the principal said in a tone somewhere inbetween an order and merely disinterested. 

Greg wasn't really in the state of mind to sit. He always preferred to stand because it made everything he had to say feel more strict and formal like he was the right man for the job. Sitting made him feel small and that always made him more anxious. Not to mention sitting in that small chair would create the illusion of that childhood nightmare of being sent to the principal's office for a so-called crime. But he did as he was told. 

"Now," the principal made himself comfortable in his own chair and positioned himself so that he was in line with Greg's seat before going further. "As you know, this interview is strictly protocol. You're the only one up for the position, currently, so it's yours technically, but we like to get to know our potential teachers. Ya know, to make sure you're not a psychopathic killer or anything. A child molester. That sort of thing," he grinned which gave Greg the impression that he was joking, so he smiled too.

"Yes, very funny, sir. But I can assure you I'm neither of those things," Greg straightened his back and placed his hands in his lap in an attempt to look as professional as he possible could while sitting. "So, when is the tour of the school?"

"I'm very glad to hear it. Can't have that sort of reputation, can we?" He smiled again, " The tour follows the interview and will be given by one of our staff members. Another teacher most likely. Whoever is available. Perhaps a free period on their schedule. It's not fixed. Deb will take care of that."

"So you will not be leading the tour?" Greg asked.

"Sadly no. My dear apologies, Mr. Lestrade. But I am a very busy man. I have a school to run, and I'm swamped today. Got to get through all that paperwork for the transfers coming in. It's never ending, ya know. Part of the job."

"I understand, sir."

"But don't worry," Principal Jackson said, "We'll get someone to show you around, and by the time you start, you'll be an expert."

Greg nodded.

"Now..." the principal cleared his throat, "to proceed with the interview portion....this first one is silly really, but, for legal reasons, I must confirm if you have your degree in education."

"Yes."

"Perfect. Um, were you previously employed in a teaching position?"

"Yes."

"Did you major in anything else in college?"

"I had a minor in psychological studies."

"Very interesting," the principal scribbled something down on a piece of paper, "How well do you work with your students? Do you get along well with kids?"

"I'd like to think so," Greg said, "Although, I've never worked with high school-aged kids before."

"What age group are you used to teaching?"

"Middle school honors English, sir." 

"Honors?"

"Yes, sir, I find no issue working with kids in average levels, but I'm inspired by students that push past what they think they are capable of and challenge themselves. I believe that's the way to succeed."

"So you would prefer to teach honors classes then?"

"I wouldn't call it a preference really. It's just that the way they approach their studies fits more with my personal philosophies. But I won't complain if I'm needed elsewhere."

"Well, if you choose after your experience today to take the job, the open position is for 10th grade English. Both honors and regular. I assume this wouldn't be a problem then? 

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, what's your family life like? Not to get too personal. Just an idea for profile reasons. It's just part of the paperwork. Nobody will see it. You don't mind?"

"Not at all," Greg coughed, "I'm single. Divorced. I don't have an children although I have a niece that I adore. I visit her every few months, and we like to host tea parties. Little girls love that, and I enjoy it. Although, the tea could be a little more flavorful. But what do you expect from drinking a cup of air," he laughed.

The principal smiled too which made Greg feel slightly relieved. 

"Are you a citizen of this city?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"My whole life, sir."

He nodded.

The questions continued briefly with stuff about medical records and legal requirements. Exchange of paperwork and forms to sign. It didn't take overly long, but it all was a little overwhelming for Greg. He had forgotten how stressful a new job could be, and he hadn't even started yet.

"Well," Principal Jackson stacked the forms in a pile on the corner of his desk. "That should be all we need to know unless you think there's something else of importance."

"No, sir."

"Good. Well, the tour should be starting soon. I'll get Deb to call somebody. You just wait here for a few moments, ok?"

He left and returned with a man dressed in a dull red sweater and dark denim jeans. This newcomer had short brown hair and a warm smile. Although, there was something about him that made Greg slightly nervous. He couldn't put his finger on it though.

"Greg," Principal Jackson nodded towards him, "This is Mr. Holmes. He teaches English here as well. 11th grade AP." 

Mr. Holmes waved his hand slightly as a greeting.

"Mycroft, this is Mr. Lestrade. He's going to be filling the 10th grade position."

"Pleasure," the man held out his hand to shake.

Greg hesitated. He never was fond of handshaking. It just didn't feel natural to be so casual as to touch a person one has just met, but he did what was expected of him. Although, his body stiffened a little upon doing so, and he held his breath until their hands unclasped. Mr. Holmes didn't seem to notice. 

"Honors or regular?" The man asked Greg.

"Both."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," Greg's voice was firm and a little inappropriate for the situation which Mr. Holmes noticed with satisfaction.

"Ha, the newbie is very formal. 'Yes sir'. It's like the words of a soldier. Did you serve?"

"No, sir," Greg replied.

"Shame. You'd be great in the service. Confidence is key to success ya know. Keeps you strong. That's what I like about a person," he grinned and patted Greg's shoulder which caused him to shiver a bit. "But you can ease up. I'm not going to judge you or anything. Besides, you pretty much got the job, right Phil?"

Mr. Jackson nodded, replying with an excited, "Congratulations Greg."

"Well, come along, newbie. I'll show you around," Mycroft said cheerfully.

Greg let out another breath as Mr. Holmes walked by.

"Do try to keep up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was the first chapter. I really hope you liked it. I was experimenting with the style. I think it works well in third person because of what I plan to do later with some points of view of the students towards the potential mystrade relationship, but I'd love to hear feedback towards POV suggestions and what works for you guys. I can always switch up POV's. That's always exciting


	2. Gregory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg takes a tour around the school and decides things are going to take some getting used to. Mr. Holmes is being so nice to him, but Greg continues to feel weird about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know where I'm going as far as Greg's and Mycroft's characters. I'm sort of going with the insecure Gregory thing, and I'm playing around with a sort of humorous Mycroft character. I don't know. We'll see how it turns out.

"So..." Mycroft began, "Greg is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's short for Gregory, right?"

Greg shrugged, "I guess so, sir. I mean, that's my birth name."

"That's a Greek origin, am I wrong?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Greg's voice trailed off, "Are you familiar with etymology?"

"I dabble in some ancient studies, I suppose. Little hobby. What good am I as an English teacher if I don't know a little bit of derivatives, right?" he laughed." But I can't know everything, can I?" 

"Nobody's perfect," the words left Greg's mouth unintentionally, and he felt a little guilty for saying them, but Mycroft didn't seem to mind. 

"Oh, but I so dread not knowing," was his reply in almost a whining tone, but it was sort of seductive in a way...if you were into that sort of thing.

"Not to offend," Greg cut into Mr. Holme's laughter, "It's just an unusual hobby. I'm not into that. I don't know many people that are," he tried to smile to prove it was a compliment and not meant as an insult even though he did say "not to offend" (that usually means you are going to offend them). 

"Well," Mycroft continued, "Most people aren't. I'm an oddity."

"No, no. It's very interesting," Greg said quickly in hopes that he didn't walk into something he shouldn't have-that's the last thing he needed. "It's just unique is all...but while on the subject of names," he swallowed, "Mycroft?"

"Family name I suppose," he said, "Like I said, can't know everything. That is one I've never really come to understand." 

"Yea, I guess it's not one you hear often."

"Nope," he exclaimed proudly, "I'm the only Mycroft I know! I guess that makes me special, ay?" He turned his head to look over his shoulder and give Greg another smile to ease his nerves. "Come on, we'll start downstairs and make our way up."

"Ok," Greg muttered.

"You know, I do love the name Gregory, you should really consider having people call you that. Greg is just so....ordinary."

"Maybe ordinary is good."

"Why?" Mycroft stopped to look at him, " Individuality, my friend. Ordinary is boring," he grabbed Greg's hand, "Now, let's go. The first lunch will end soon, and we don't want to be in this hall when the stampede comes around."

The hand touching again. Mr. Holmes sure was comfortable with himself, Greg concluded. He seemed very in touch with who he was, and not afraid of newcomers. He could appreciate that, but he had his own boundaries. The man seemed proud and a worthy potential friend, but, from where Greg was standing, he was still a strange man who was holding his hand, and it made his heart race a little. 

"We can start at the locker rooms. I don't think you'll have any reason to come down here, but if you feel like working out, the weight room is open to staff members when the students aren't occupying it. I go down there sometimes to clear my head."

"I'm not really athletic," Greg admitted.

"Nor I," Mycroft chuckled, "But I always thought exercising was a stress reliever. But to each his own. You should come down sometime though. It can be great fun if you go in a group."

Greg nodded. 

The tour continued with Mr. Holmes asking Greg questions about a variety of things. Some of them were a bit violating, but he answered them anyway. He guessed this is how you made friends, sharing things about each other. It was a little new to Greg is all. Well, not new, but he felt like he had nearly forgotten how to socialize. It happened in his old position too. It seemed like a reoccurring phenomenon ever since the divorce...

The school itself, however wasn't so bad. It was small compared to some places that Greg knew, and most of it he wouldn't even need to set foot in. Unless of course he took up on Mr. Holme's offer to go work out...the sweating....probably not. 

Mycroft left him in an empty classroom which he had been told would become his. It looked pretty much like all the other classrooms except that he had yet to decorate. All the other teachers had posters and fun little props around the room to add a touch of personal flair to the otherwise hell-like atmosphere that expanded around them. Although, Greg didn't know exactly how he would do such a thing. There was only so much one could do to make an English classroom interesting. 

Mr. Holme's room, contradicting to Mr. Lestrade's at the current moment, had posters all over the walls of quotes from various stories, and there were various photographs of students on the walls under a large sign that read "worthy achievements." Mycroft said that he tended to reward students for their work to motivate them. The "worthy achievements" wall was created for students who got A's on their essays. They got their name up on the wall until their next essay was assigned, and then they were taken down and only put back up if they receive another A. And they also get a piece of candy taped to their paper. The system was appealing, and Greg wondered what sorts of things he could do for his own class to get them to try harder in school. 10th graders were a little too old for gold stars. Maybe he could do a homework pass or something. But then he'd get a lot of kids skipping their homework which promoted laziness. He sighed...

"Mr. Lestrade?" a head of a student poked in through the door. "Are you busy?"

The sound of the voice startled him a little, and he spun around to see a girl standing in the entrance to the room. She was fairly short with bleach blond hair styled in a pixie cut, but her bangs were a bright shade of blue. She was dressed in a camouflage t-shirt and jeans, and she was holding a green clipboard. 

"Forgive me," he cleared his throat, "I was just thinking. Can I help you?" 

"I'm Eli Clover."

"Eli?"

"Short for Eliza which is short for Elizabeth. I despise both. Way too girly."

"My apologies, just curious."

"Sall cool, sir. Everyone asks me that. Ya know, because Eli is usually a boy's name."

"Nice job, Greg," Mr. Lestrade thought to himself. 

"Principal Jackson told me to deliver this to you?" she stepped forward to hand him the green clipboard. "It's your rosters."

"Oh, thank you," he accepted the clipboard from her. "Are you in one of my hours?"

"No, sir," she said, "I'm a junior in Mr. Holme's class."

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yessir." 

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to the teacher in this position?"

"Family issues, I guess. This class has been taught by a sub for two months, but the original teacher just decided to quit because she was expecting a move to come out of it. So the position was empty. But here you are."

"Here I am."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"

"Mr. Holmes? Is he nice?"

"Did you not meet him?"

"I did. It's just...he's different."

"Oh, he's great! He's by far the best teacher I've had. He can be really strict in class, but he gives us actual motivation to do well. Not many teachers do that. They just read from the curriculum like robots."

"Ya, I saw his achievement wall."

"Oh ya!" she smiles, "I've been on the wall for the whole year!"

"Ha, well too bad you weren't in my class. I would've loved to read one of your essays."

"You can always ask Mr. Holmes. He'd be happy to share the work. He's lazy sometimes," she laughed.

"Ya," Greg tried to laugh too.

"Do you not like him?"

"I do. It's just that I'm not good at socializing. And it's good to make contact with the people in your work place, I guess."

"You're talking to me, aren't you?" her smile was reassuring to him, "You'll do fine. And as far as friends go, I think the two of you will be best friends in no time. And the kids in this class are really good so I've heard. Don't worry." 

She shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise."

"Have a good afternoon."

She left. 

"Gregory?" sure enough, Mycroft's head poked in right after she left. "Do you want to go get some coffee in the teacher's lounge? I don't have a class until 7th hour and 5th hour isn't over yet, so we have plenty of time to talk."

Greg hesitated, "I think I'm just going to stay here and get a feel of the place if that's ok?" 

"Suit yourself, but they have French Vanilla," he said it in a voice like he was trying to guilt him into going, but it was in a playful way.

It was tempting, but no.

He watched him leave and realized he was holding his breath again. Why was he acting so weird? The man was just his co-worker. He glanced at his desk where there was a name plate. "Gregory Lestrade" it read in golden letters against a black background. He thought about it. Gregory...maybe...


	3. Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's nephew comes into the picture

"Mr. Holmes!" Mycroft was just returning to his classroom after spending the 6th period drinking coffee in the library when someone flagged him down in the hall. "Mr. Holmes!"

"Jesse?" He turned, "Aren't you supposed to be in class? 6th period doesn't end for another ten minutes."

"I told Miss Hooper I had a stomach ache, so I just grabbed my stuff and left," the boy said.

"Well, do you have a stomach ache?"

"Hell no. I just can't stand listening to her go on and on about the importance of nutrition for bone structure." 

"Ya, she does have a thing about that. She used to work in a morgue, ya know."

"Really?"

"Ya."

"Hm..." He processed this fact for a mere millisecond and then smiled, "I have a study period this hour. Can you write me a note?"

"What's the point of even taking a study hall if you won't use it?"

"Free time with my favorite uncle?" He gave Mycroft a puppy dog look which he knew never worked, but he was hoping for a change of heart.

"For god sake, why did your parents enroll you here?"

"Bonding?" He was so proud of himself-it was sickening.

"I swear, you are just like your father. God, why couldn't you take after John..." He sighed and walked away without saying anything, so Jess took that as a success. "I'll put you to work!" He added, but Jess didn't care.

Somewhere along the way back to his classroom, Mycroft managed to lose his nephew. Whether or not he would return was debatable. He'd like to think he'd be a good student and come back to be a lab aid for him, but his gut told him it probably wouldn't be the case. There was a sale at the comic book store today. Nerdy paradise. He could always not email his study hall teacher, but that would lose him his "best uncle" title. Of course, he was Jess's only uncle. Nah, it wasn't worth it, Jess would just get mad at him. And that's awkward. Let him have his fun. He's a good kid.

Despite popular belief that existed partly because that's the way Mycroft wanted it, Jesse was actually one of his favorite students at this school. It could be family bias, but he just admired the fact that the kid always just seemed so content with himself. He could care less about actual class, but he did well on tests that made up for it. Ultimately though, Mycroft liked him because he had others best interests in mind constantly over his own. He always wanted to help. Unfortunately, that meant he always had his big nose in your business. 

He noticed a figure shuffling about in an empty classroom as he walked by. It was Mr. Lestrade's room, and he was busying himself moving things back and forth, more disappointed with each new arrangement. The man liked organization and was very particular about it, he could tell. Mycroft liked that.

"Gregory?"

"Huh? What?" He was breathing heavily as if he had just suffered some sort of anxiety attack. 

"Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine." 

"You sure?"

"Yes, I just. Ya know, settling in. A little nerve wracking is all."

"It'll blow over. The butterflies. Just relax. Nobody's gonna care about how straight the stacks of notecards on your desk are. Trust me, I haven't seen a desk more organized than yours. Except maybe mine," he gave him a smile and a wink before continuing on to his own room.

Greg sighed.

Surprisingly Jesse had managed to slip in almost magically before Mycroft arrived. He had jumped out from behind a bookcase and gave him the scare of his life. He clutched at his chest as it heaved in and out, and he contemplated a suitable punishment for nearly giving him a heart attack just then. Detention was too school-boy. 

"I'll make you wash your father's coat for that one," Sherlock never washed his own clothes if he could help it, and John would appreciate his son doing some work around the house for once-the ultimate punishment for a child of such a larger and, dare he say, more immature being.

"Uncle Mycroft!"

"What are you, five years old? Discipline, my boy. We can't have you accidentally shocking people to death willy nilly," he stopped, "Unless they deserve it."

"Fine, but if I get some sort of rash again, it's on you," Sherlock's clothes did seem to pick up several odd substances during it's adventures, and, although he was immune to the effects of some of them, others were not.

"Just go do your homework or something."

Jesse made a face and sat down in a chair in the front, but he was soon shooed to a desk in the back corner for fear that he would distract Mycroft's class. Not to mention, the chair he was sitting it was Billy Jenson's, and that boy's dandruff and body odor just seemed to remain in the vicinity of the desk forever. Jackie who sat next to him kept complaining about choking on dead skin floating in the air....at least Billy was good at grammar. 

"Uncle Myc," Mycroft was writing something about annotation techniques on the whiteboard, but he made a hand movement to show he was listening after telling his nephew to not call him Myc for about the millionth time-he despised that name. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Does it have to do with English?"

"No. Um...." Jesse thought, and then smiled. "Social Sciences."

"You of all people would no that is not my area of expertise."

"So you won't answer it then?"

"I didn't say that."

"Have you met the new English teacher for 10th grade?" Mycroft stopped writing and turned around.

"How is this social science?"

"Just answer it."

Mycroft eyes him.

Jesse was nearly 16 and a 10th grader himself. He was extremely intelligent which meant he was in honors, but Mycroft could not remember which teacher he had had. Perhaps it was the one being replaced, and he was nervous about having a new teacher. But, knowing Jesse, he never got nervous. This wasn't anxiety.

"Yes?" He said it slowly in an odd tone as if it in itself was the question, but he continued, "What about him?"

"I saw him on the way up here. He looks freaked." 

"You would be too if you got a new job. Get one and come back. Then we can talk."

"I dog walk."

"A real job." 

"Ok, fair enough. It's just that I saw you go talk to him."

"A friendly gesture." 

"Do you like him?"

"He seems interesting, of course the shyness only works upon arrival. It won't hold up. Confidence, lad. It's the only way to get around in today's society. He appears nice though. He'll situate things soon enough. A valuable addition to the school, I think." 

"Well ya, but is he like someone you'd want to get to know?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"He's kind of good looking is all."

"Oh quiet you," he couldn't help, but smile a little. "Don't be getting all excited." 

"Ya know, my dads met through work."

"I'm aware. And as soon as they met, it was obvious. Bloody oblivious Sherlock is."

"For someone with a large brain, my father isn't the brightest bulb."

"Hey, you know my policy. Only I can make fun of my brother. Not go do something productive," his nephew winked at him and he gave him a playful shove out of annoyance. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"Oh, then that means I've done my job right!"

"Your job is to go do your homework. Go on. Or maybe you might want to go talk to Mr. Lestrade."

"No, it's too early for that."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Nosy."

"He's going to be my teacher, ya know."

"Then you better do your homework." 

"Why's that?"

Mycroft went back to writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Johnlock had a kid...Ha, I couldn't help myself. This chapter is the start of the mystrade conspiracy thing amongst the students. Of course it starts with Sherlock's kin lol


	4. A+ Mr. Lestrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's first class

The alarm clock honestly was like a gunshot-not only was the sound earsplitting, but Greg shot awake breathing heavily as if he had actually just dodged a bullet. He grasped at his heaving chest and his eyes almost flew out of their sockets when he noticed what time it was. He was going to be late for school ON THE FIRST DAY. What a way to get fired. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lestrade, but we regret to inform you that you have been fired due to your failure to report to work on time on your first day on the job." 

"Shit." 

He didn't have time to take a shower or brush his teeth. But it wasn't like he could go to class smelling like a donkey, so he threw on a glob of deodorant and several spritzes of cologne after changing clothes to the new suit that he bought. He popped some mints in his mouth to help with his breath, and he quickly brushed his hair. Looking in the mirror, he decided that the suit was too formal, so he threw off the jacket with the tie and kept the shirt and pants. He checked his watch again. If he left now, he could just make it. He grabbed a banana and a granola bar and rushed to his car. 

"Great job, Gregory, F++" he groaned. 

He stuffed the food in his mouth like a hamster hoarding it's dinner before starting the ignition. When he arrived everyone was already in their classrooms and beginning to teach. His eyes scanned the hallways as he walked as fast as he could-because running was a #1 DON'T in school hallways apparently- but he couldn't quite remember what classroom was his. Well that's helpful...

"Uh, uh." 

"Excuse me?" He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Can I help you?"

It was a younger woman-in her 30s probably- dressed in a lab coat with a pair of goggles on her forehead. She was wearing rubber gloves and holding a metal tray. From glancing in the room behind where she was standing Greg figured she was a science teacher getting ready for a dissection. Biology. Uh, Hooper. Molly Hooper? That sounded right.

"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to distract you from your class. I was just looking for my room."

"You're the new English teacher, aren't you?" 

He nodded. 

"Right," she turned and announced for her class to look over their lab packet and be ready to ask any questions when she returned. "Come on, I'll take you."

"No, you don't have to. You can just tell me the room number, and I'll find it," but she insisted.

Greg followed her.

"It's Greg Lestrade, isn't it?"

"Uh, ya."

"Molly Hooper. I'm the biology teacher as you can probably tell."

"It's a pleasure, Ms. Hooper."

"Molly, please."

"Molly."

"Here we are. Have a good first day, Greg."

He peered in and noticed that it was a full room. Every seat was taken, and they all had their books out. Standing in front of them was Mr. Holmes. He bid farewell to Molly and thanked her before taking a deep breath and walking in, apologizing for his inappropriate tardiness. 

"I'm afraid that'll be a detention Mr. Lestrade," Mycroft joked.

Greg breathed heavily and smiled.

"Can I take it Friday night?" He laughed.

Mycroft introduced Greg to the class before leaving. 

"Thank you," Greg whispered to him on his way out. 

"No problem." 

"Ok," he turned to the class. "I am so sorry for this delay. But I don't want to encourage excuses. It was my fault, and it won't happen again. Let's get started."

"Wait!" A boy in the back row with blond hair and glasses called out.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to tell us something about yourself?"

"Oh..." He rubbed his forehead, "Right. Thanks for reminding me, uh..."

"Nick."

"Nick. Ok."

The name was etched into his head, and he repeated it over to himself. Nick. Nick. Nick. Blond hair, glasses. Nick. One down, dozens more to go. Good job Greg. Keep it up. He took an Expo marker and wrote his name on the board. G.R.....no, students weren't supposed to know your first name. That's unprofessional. He erased it. M.R. L.E.S.T.R.A.D.E. his hand was shaking a little-nerves. 

"Ok, um, so my name is Mr. Lestrade. I'm going to be your new teacher for the rest of the year. I don't really know what you want to know about me or really what you would find interesting, but I am divorced. I live alone around here, so maybe you might see me at the grocery store or something. I love reading, especially mystery and crime dramas. I promise I'm not usually this nervous. First day jitters," he breathed in and out, "Um, I'm pretty laid back, I'd like to think, so I don't think we'll have any problems. We won't have any problems, right? Say right?"

"Right." 

"Ok. Um, how about, before we start, we go around and say our names, so I can get a start in getting to know everyone. So let's start here and just go across and back," he pointed to the desk nearest the door. 

Ok, Ian, Fallon, Jennifer, Geoff, Katherine, Shiloh, Max, Henry, Pat, Christian, Noah, Garrett, Jesse...the names went on and Greg strained himself to try to match each name with a face. Shiloh, short-hair girl with freckles. Henry, African American with black glasses. Noah, short, Chinese with gages in his ears. So many kids...

"Alright, I'll get it after a few days, but I have an idea. So, let's get started. Turn to page 126 in your textbooks and start reading the synopsis of Julius Caesar and the character lists with their analysis, and then I'll tell you what we are going to do from there." 

He didn't have to tell them twice. Everyone in the room immediately turned to the page and started reading. Ay, that wasn't so bad. That's an A+. Gold star, Greg. 

Once the kids finished reading, he assigned them to complete a pre-reading about Shakespeare that could be filled out by using the information on pages 120-125. And then there was a little personal survey about themes in the story.

"Make sure to add any extra notes you think you might need in the margins because we'll discuss this when you are done and we will have a quiz tomorrow at the beginning of class." 

They followed the instructions without any arguments or groans. Already this was a lot better than his old class. They never listened to him or respected him, but everyone in here was very quiet and followed his orders. He liked it. 

The hour went by very quickly. The students participated in the discussion, and there were some very good questions and points that Greg enjoyed answering and talking about. He was almost sad when the students grabbed their bags and began piling out of the room once the bell sounded. 

"Good morning, Mr. Lestrade, it was nice to meet you," a couple of the students shook his hand as they departed. 

"Cheers. Have a good day!" He said to them in return. 

When they were all gone he jumped joyfully and smiled while he erased the board. He whistled zippidy-do-dah as he did so.

"Good first hour?" It was Mycroft. 

"The best," he wasn't even startled by the sudden voice, "Everyone is so respectful."

"Give it a few days," Mr. Holmes laughed, "They're tenth graders."

"But they are honors."

"Like that helps," he laughed, "So what do you think about my nephew?"

"Who?"

"Jesse."

"He was quiet. He didn't really say anything." 

"He's plotting. Watch out for him. That boy can be a troublemaker when he wants to be."

"Well should I move him to the front or..."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it. He's a good kid. He's just annoying. He'll do his work. He gets good grades. But he can be distracting sometimes. Just threaten to tell me, and he won't cause any more trouble." 

"Oh, ok."

"See you at lunch?"

Greg nodded.


	5. Maybe, Maybe Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the wait. It's been a busy week. It's not entirely eventful in this chapter, but it's building the mystrade tension I guess.

"Jess, yo wait up!" 

The Holmes-Watson boy ceased his stepping and turned to see his best friend running down the hall to catch up with him.

"Ay, wassup, bro?" Jesse held back from continuing to Ms. Hooper's room because he wasn't in a hurry to touch any slimy frogs.

"Dude, where ya been, haven't seen ya since this morning?" Ian asked, breathing heavily, having finally made it to his friend's side.

"Eh, ya know. Around. I was just heading to Miss Hoopers room."

"You're dissecting a frog today, right?" Ian grimaced.

"Yup."

"Gross. We're doing that next week. We're behind on material apparently."

"Do you think I can get away with it being against my religion?"

"I highly doubt it," He made a motion for them to start walking again. 

A few teachers yelled at them to stop lolly gagging in the halls because class was starting soon, but they didn't acknowledge them. Jesse glanced at his friend and debated on whether he should ask the question in his head or not.

"Hm...so what do you think of our new English teacher?" Jesse's tone was as serious as he could make it, but the laughter was crawling up his throat.

"Lestrade?"

"Ya." 

"He's a total loser, did you see him this morning?" Ian blew some hair out of his face and shrugged, "but I like him. He's laid back."

"You think he'll stay?"

The look on Ian's face was almost like Jesse had just told him he was pregnant. 

"Ya kidding?" He laughed, "Ha, with the way he was making googly eyes at your uncle? He'll be here forever." 

"What do you mean?" Like it needed to be explained...

"Don't give me that bullshit, Holmes. You aren't blind."

"Ya, I know," Jesse laughed because there was no way he could've gotten away with that sounding legit, "Did you see the way he was smiling? He's like a lovesick puppy."

"Does your uncle like him?" Ian whispered.

"He told me not to get overexcited. He said he looks like a nice guy," he sniffed, "He's been single for too long..."

"Has he ever 'been' with someone?"

"Not in a long time. He's always looking at me and making faces behind my dads' backs. It's fucking hilarious."

"I smell jealousy."

"Ha, no kidding. Apparently when Sherlock and John got married he set a bunch of traps that were meant to embarrass the shit out of the two of them, but they always ended up backfiring on him." 

"Sounds like your uncle has a denial problem."

"It's bloody obvious."

"So I'm guessing you have something up your sleeve to deal with this dilemma?"

"Oh, Nickels," he gave Ian a look of disappointment, "you know me better than that. I don't just come up with plans. It'll take me two days at least," he grinned and gave Ian a pat on the back, "Gotta go. Hooper will kill me if I'm late." 

"Pfff. Who needs Biology anyway? Chemistry, dude." 

"You pervert," Jess smirked.

"Oh, I'M the pervert?!"  
-

Greg felt like a new man when he got home that day-he was smiling for once. All of his classes that day were incredibly respectful, and he felt so in charge the entire time. He had had a little rough patch that morning, but he made up for it. Oh, he made up for it. And the kids seemed to really like him which he wasn't expecting at all. The staff were all very supportive, and, overall, it was the best day he had had in a long time. Gosh, who knows how long it'd been since he had smiled for real. Ages. Lifetimes...It felt unnatural, but so good.

He made himself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the kitchen table. There was a solitary chair waiting for him, but, for once, he failed to notice the disappearance of its partner. The bowl of Fruit Loops smiled up at him, swishing about in its swimming pool of milk, and he felt like a kid again. He couldn't remember why he had decided to grab the sugary cereal at the store instead of his usual whole grain oats. He had walked right past it which was odd because he had decided as his new year's resolution to eat healthier. But the Toucan on the box called to him, and here he was. And he didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He loved every second, every spoonful more fruity and more enjoyable. He even imagined the little Toucan and his smaller counterparts laughing, and he found himself joining in.The corners of his lips turned upwards, and he just couldn't stop. 

His hand reached over to flip on the radio. Classic Rock begged for his attention, but he couldn't remember what channel it was on. His fingers just kept flipping buttons. Taylor Swift, John Legend, Megan Trainor- modern music wasn't his cuppa tea. Then Journey came on-"Faithfully." He turned it off. That was his wedding song...

"Well, I guess that's a sign that I should go write up my lesson plan for tomorrow," he finished his cereal and gulped down a glass of orange juice. "No need to disturb the ole graveyard," he tapped at his forehead.

There was a stack of papers he had copied while at school with questions for the quiz printed on them that he had stacked on the coffee table on the way in. Before he could move them to his desktop, Greg realized a tiny slip of yellow paper peaking out from under the stack that he didn't notice before. 

"What's this?" 

"Gregory," it said. "I hope you didn't forget your tardiness this morning. I checked my schedule. Friday would work. 7 o'clock. If it's convenient, of course." It wasn't signed.

Wait...

-

"Yes, hello?" He held the phone between his shoulder and ear, frantically searching through the phone book.

"Yes, operator, how can I help you?" 

"Yes, um, can you give me the number for a Mr. Mycroft Holmes?" 

"Just a moment..." Greg heard tapping in the background, probably the woman checking the system database. "I'm sorry, sir. There's no number for Mycroft Holmes. Perhaps there was a mistake. How do you spell Mycroft?"

"Uh," he thought, "M.Y.C.R.O.F.T."

She tapped.

"My apologies, sir. The system is not showing anything. Maybe it's under a different name?"

"Try Holmes." 

"The only Holmes' in the area are a Mr. Sherlock Holmes and a Mr. John Holmes-Watson. But I'm not finding a Mycroft Holmes."

"Ok, thanks anyway. I must've made an error. My apologies."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"

"No, that's all. Good day," he hung up.

Well that was strange...His eyes glanced towards the note again. There was a tiny arrow at the bottom of the paper that pointed towards the back-he flipped it over. There was a number.

The phone book dropped from his hands, and his fingers punched at the buttons. The dial tone beat in his ear, or maybe that was his heart. 

"Hello?"

"Mycroft?"

"Oh, Gregory. So nice to hear from you. I see you found my note."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, busy week...here's 6.

Friday afternoon rolled around a lot quicker than Greg expected. Periodically throughout the day, he checked the clock and realized another hour had past and that meant an hour less between that moment and when he was supposed to meet up with Mr. Holmes that evening. The phone call earlier that week made him uneasy. He couldn't quite wrap his head around Mr. Holme's interest in him. The kindness was greatly appreciated for his first week, but he never expected someone to actually want to hang out with him outside of academic hours. It didn't seem natural. Did teachers normally socialize out in public? Do they get in groups and go to movies or get chips together? Nobody at Greg's old school ever acknowledged eachother's existence, let alone spoken two words to their co-workers on the outer side of the brick walls that masked their true personalities. It seemed risqué-it just didn't happen. But maybe things were different around here. 

"Mr. Lestrade?" a girl named Ilene tapped her fingers which were neatly painted with purple nail polish and black sparkles on the tips against the edge of his desk, and Greg was forced to pull himself back to the classroom.

"Oh, sorry, Lila, right?" He cleared his throat.

"Ilene."

"Oh, Ilene, right," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he normally did when he had no clue how to respond, "My apologies, can I help you?"

"If we finished the assignment, are we allowed to work on other homework?"

Greg rubbed at his eyes and proceeded to glancing past her at Mr. Holmes' room. He could see him standing at the front in the middle of a lecture. His voice was soft from where he was sitting, but he could still make out the words of his lesson on adverbs. Mycroft was dressed a little less casually today. Perhaps it was to impress him for their outing tonight because he had mentioned a meeting, and that might mean no time to go home and change. Or maybe it was just for the meeting. Greg looked down at his old worn-out sweater and jeans, frowning. 

"Mr. Lestrade?" the student's voice broke the silence again.

"Oh," he blinked a few times, "Yes, of course. Go ahead. We have twenty minutes let anyway, and I have nothing else planned."

"Thank you sir."

He nodded.

The minutes ticked away, his eyes switching back and forth like windshield wipers from his student's quiet studying and Mycroft's room. At one point he thought that the other man might've caught him staring and sent a short smile his way, but he could've been smiling at anybody. 

"Mr. Lestrade? Can we listen to music?" The voice didn't have a recognizable owner without turning his head, but Greg flapped in his hand about in a motion that said "I don't care", and the room was silent again except for the flipping of notebook pages. 

And just like that, the hour sped to an end. The students filed, surprisingly orderly, out of the door, each walking past him and bidding him some sort of farewell whether spoken or motioned.

"Have a good weekend," he mumbled softly although the chances that anybody heard him were slim. 

He opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out his phone. The screen was illuminated with a text from his ex-wife-she hadn't rung since the divorce.

"How are you doing?" It said.

Greg sighed because he knew he should've deleted her number. Obviously she didn't bother to delete his either. It's strange how the mind holds on to things. Should he answer it? No. It was probably a guilt trap anyway. His fingers swiped the little trash can in the corner. The message disappeared.

She hadn't phoned in-gosh he couldn't even count how long it's been. Although that could be exaggerating it a bit. His phone felt warm in his hand, but he didn't put it down. His fingers clasped tighter around it, and he bit his lip.

He checked his watch. The kids should've cleared the hallways slightly by now. On a Friday afternoon, most clear the premises in five minutes or less. All that remained now were probably a few lingering freshman, and people awaiting Friday afternoon extracurriculars. 

His keys slipped from his grip, and he bent over to retrieve them, cursing under his breath, before he departed for the afternoon. 

"One week down," he said to himself.

-

"Ay, Uncle Myc," Jesse was one of the few students still wandering around the school that afternoon, and he figured he'd stick around until after his uncle's meeting so he could catch up on some things he wanted to ask him.

Mycroft had just walked out of the teacher's lounge and ran into his nephew sitting across the hall on one of their convenience benches (they're just put there for, well convenience). Of all the people he wanted to see, Jesse was not really on Mycroft's list at the moment. He had to get home and prepare himself for the dinner that night. He figured he'd surprise Gregory by gathering some of the teachers together to have proper welcome to their newest staff member. It was the least he could do. After the first day, the poor man seemed to be a nervous wreck all week. Mycroft kept catching him in his glances towards his own classroom periodically. He always seemed bothered by something. Mycroft figured the new teacher's blues were only going to allow him that one good first day. The rest was up to him, it seemed. But that didn't mean that Mr. Holmes couldn't help him out a little bit to assuage the stress. 

However, it seemed that before he could do that, he had to deal with his nephew.

"Jesse, why are you still here? Go home. It's a Friday afternoon for pete's sake."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"If this is about your attempt to set me up again, let it go. I'm just making him feel welcome. You've been doing this all week."

"A simple yes or no to the question will suffice," Jesse said, tapping his foot.

"I like his hair," was all Mycroft said before walking past him, "Do you want me to call John to pick you up?" 

"He's waiting outside."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here? Go," he shoved him a little to get him moving.

He didn't want to smile, but he couldn't help it. 

"Teenagers..."

-

The suit taunted him. It was the only one Greg owned, and it wasn't anything fancy, but it was the suit he wore to his wedding. It felt a little tight around his abdomen which reminded him that he had gained a few pounds since that day. Did it look bad? No, not exactly. If he stood up a little straighter, maybe people wouldn't notice. But when he sat, would the fat begin to roll? That would be embarrassing.

He sucked in his gut, and decided it would have to do. But what about the tie? It was old and kinda shabby. But it was his father's tie-he remembered when his dad told him how he had worn it when he married his mom. He hadn't worn it since and always had it locked in a box for when his son grew up. He had given it to Greg when he joined the police force. It was still his favorite tie.

"Alright old friend," he touched it and smiled. 

It was 5:30. He was supposed to meet Mycroft at his address in an hour, so they could get wherever they were going by 7. That's another thing. He never did say where they were going. Perhaps that would've eased Greg's nerves a bit. That was one thing he wasn't fond of-surprises- especially from a man he barely knew. Anybody would be a little anxious.

Should he eat before he left? He was famished, but wouldn't the extra weight make his belly bulge a little? Maybe it was best to skip and eat when he returned. They'd probably only be out a few hours at most. He could make it. They might even pick up a bite, and he could nibble a little to keep him going but not enough that he'd burst through his shirt. (Ok, maybe it wasn't that tight, but it wasn't overly comfortable either. It could've just been him though. Greg had been stressing about his weight a lot lately which was odd because he never used to care about that sort of thing). 

It probably would've been smarter to get dressed a little later now that he thought about it. Mycroft's house couldn't have been that far away, and now he had an hour just to stare at himself in the mirror or walk aimlessly in an attempt not to think about food. Good work, Greg. 

-

The time passed slowly-a lot slower than the hours that morning. All day the clock just seemed to tick and tick with his mind not being able to keep up. Now, every time he looked at the clock, a minute felt like a month. A decade. A century...

At last, the clock struck 6:05, and he decided he couldn't wait any longer. There was always a chance he'd hit some traffic on the way to Mr. Holme's house, so he wouldn't be there too early. He couldn't stand another second on that damn couch. 

The keys nearly flew into his hand on his way out.


	7. Chapter 7

Strawberries. Why the hell did he pick up the bottle that smelled like strawberries? Greg had had a perfume bottle for his mother on his dresser, and he sprayed it on before he left, thinking it was his cologne. How does that even happen?

He still felt a tightening in his gut thinking about it. Everyone at the restaurant had complimented how he smelled like a parfait. He had laughed along with them, but his stomach felt like it was ripping in half. Why didn't Mycroft tell him other staff members were going to be there? Why didn't he tell him anything? What the fuck was he supposed to say, going in blindly like that? Greg Lestrade doesn't do people.

The whole evening Greg had felt like an idiot. First the perfume, then spilling his water on Molly's dress, tripping on the carpet on the way to the restroom. The fake smile stretched his face until it hurt. His stress level caused the bits of fabric underneath his armpits to stick to him from the moisture. The sweat beads settled comfortably right before his hairline, but he feared one would stray and slide down his face, revealing itself and Greg's insecurities. 

It was the Saturday after the fact, and Greg was lying on his couch with his fingers rested on the power button of the tv remote, but the screen remained black. His eyes were fixed on the blackness as he thought. There was a stack of papers waiting for his attention on the coffee table, but he denied them it. 

That last night had been such a disaster. What were his co-workers going to think of him now? That's the last thing he needed-for everyone to think he was some sort of clown. But the worst part, which may seem ironic in a way, was how, in the course of the apocalypse, Mr. Holmes never once cracked a grin at Greg's mistakes. The man's eyes seemed hollow as though everyone else's innocent chuckling was burning through him as well. 

"Are you alright?" He had asked Greg as they walked to his car after everyone had left. 

His hand had gently reached over to brush off the remaining dust from Greg's final acquaintance with the floor due to an unfortunate tumble when his feet tripped each other. 

"I'm sorry about everyone. I get it, nerves," he had tried to smile, but it just made Greg feel worse. 

"Why didn't you laugh?" 

"It wasn't funny."

"You have an odd sense of humor. I would've laughed."

"I'm an odd person." 

Something in Greg's chest lifted a little.

"I don't understand you," he had told him.

"I'd pity you if you did," he was laughing, but Greg knew there was something more than that surface smile. 

"I want to."

That's when it had hit him. Greg remembered him looking at him for a moment studying him, before climbing into his car and bidding him farewell. 

And that's it. Back to reality where Greg was still sitting on his couch, lonely and confused. Why did he say that? What compelled him to say something like that? If he was Mycroft, he'd leave too. 

Another sigh crawled up his throat. He felt guilty in a way for the way he was thinking. His brain always turned everything into something horrific. But the worse part was that what he had said had been true. He did want to understand him. More than anything.

Was that wrong? He supposed not. It wasn't like it was illegal to want to get to know someone. That's human nature. And yet, there was still something about the pain in his chest that made it feel like this was some forbidden feeling.

-

"How'd the dinner go?" John's voice said through the phone.

"I wish I could say well, but."

"But what?"

There was the sound of rustling in the background which probably meant that Sherlock was busy messing about with something or another-Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"He's..." the words were hard to choose, "He's a little out of it."

"What do you expect? It's his first week."

"I suppose, but I keep getting this nagging feeling that I might've scared him off. He's so awkward around me."

"Well, he barely knows you. Do you really expect him to act any other way until he feels more comfortable?" 

"Well, no. But..."

"But..."

"I was hoping for a connection. All week I've been trying to get him to warm up to me."

"A connection?"

"Friends," the word felt like acid on his tongue, "Someone to eat lunch with and talk with."

"What about Ms. Hooper or Mr. Moriarty?"

"They're ok, but this one's different. I feel like he..."

"Oh my god, Mycroft, don't be pulling this one on me. What is it with your family anyway?" 

"You're one to talk," Mycroft's tone stiffened, "It's not like that." 

There was a loud crashing noise, and someone screaming "Dad!" Mycroft could practically see John's "not again" face followed by a deep sigh. 

"I gotta go."

"Goodnight John," Mycroft said.

"Goodnight." 

"Dad! The stove's on fire!" It was Jesse's voice.

"Sherlock!" The phone went dead.

Dear god, how was John able to live like that. With Sherlock around, it's like having two children. As if Jesse wasn't bad enough. Jesse...

"A simple yes or no to the question will suffice," that boy's cheeky little grin...

Of course Sherlock would raise an annoying little shit like that. But Mycroft loved him. He always had his best interest in mind. Maybe he had been right. Him and John. Maybe he was lonely. 

But why give them the satisfaction...

"Pff..."


	8. Am I ok?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Apologies.

The next day back at school was awkward to say the least, and that's the best euphemism Greg could muster. He had done all he could to compose himself before walking out the door that morning, but as soon as he climbed out of the car in front of the newly-familiar hell on earth, well, let's just say he lost any confidence he had swallowed when he left.

Nobody paid much thought to him as he slipped into his classroom. There were a few of his first hour students situating themselves, but class didn't start for another twenty minutes, and most of them were just dropping off their stuff before wandering till the bell. Good, that meant he could recollect himself before he'd be forced to make contact. None of the kids seemed to notice him anyway. But his students weren't the people he was worried about. 

He hadn't spotted Mr. Holmes, Ms. Hooper, or anyone that had been present Friday night at the dinner so far, so that was a load off his mind. But that didn't mean he wouldn't run into them later. He supposed the best thing to do was to act like it never happened. Be professional, Greg. Get a hold of yourself. He let out a deep breath he had been holding and smiled at the students who were beginning to depart. One nodded back at him, but the rest just walked away.

For the next twenty minutes Greg survived, but, when the bell rang, he felt like the world had dropped on his shoulders. 

"Ok, Greg," he whispered to himself, "You're an adult. You're a teacher. Just act normal."

Another deep breath.

"Good morning class! I hope everyone had a great weekend. I know I did..."

-

"Ay, Jess," Ian looked around to check if anyone was listening and leaned over a little to Jesse who was sitting next to him for group work. 

"What is it, dude?" 

"Does Mr. Lestrade look a little out of it today?"

Jesse turned to look at their teacher who was lost somewhere in a daydream, but his hands were busy shuffling invisible papers on his desk. Seemed typical for a Monday morning, but Ian had a point.

"I don't know. Maybe he still has nerves. My uncle says it lasts a few weeks. It's only his second."

"Ya, I guess..." Ian scratched his ear, "He just seems bothered is all." 

"You're right, he does. Should we ask him?" 

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Right, come on," they stood up and walked as nonchalantly as possible to their teacher's desk.

Greg didn't notice.

-

"Mr. Lestrade?"

The sound startled him a little. There were two boys standing in front of his desk, wanting to ask a question he was assuming. Not exactly the most convenient of times, but he couldn't sell himself off as being unprepared to do his job.

"Yes, um..."

Names. Names. Fuck, what were their names? He analyzed their features in his head. The one of the left....Ian. The right...he had the same eyes as Mycroft...crap, um...Jesse. Jesse Watson-Holmes.

"Mr. Lestrade," Ian repeated.

"Right, sorry. Ian, Jesse. Can I help you?"

Ian elbowed Jesse in the ribs.

"Ouch! Come on, man."

"Ask him," Ian mouthed aggressively. 

"Alright, alright. Sheesh."

Greg sighed.

"Boys, what do you want?"

"It's just..." Jesse started, but Ian finished.

"You seem out of it, sir, are you ok?"

Of course. Yes. No. He didn't know. And, if he did, he still wouldn't want to involve his students in his personal life. 

"I'm fine."

"You sure."

No. Yes. Undetermined. His head hurt.

"I am. Just return to your seats, please. I'll be alright. I'm just going to head to the restroom. Keep things in order, please, while I'm gone. Won't be long," he stood up.

"Yes, sir," they moved aside for him to get past.

-  
The cool water felt like heaven on his flustered face. He was being eaten alive in there, he could tell. Nobody was focused on their work. Everyone kept looking up at him, and he didn't know how to stop drawing their attention. It was like the Greg Lestrade show in there. He couldn't blame them. None of them were trying to be rude. They're just concerned. It's not their fault. But how was he supposed to teach if he couldn't keep his mind in the classroom? 

His face stared back at him in the mirror, and he reached up to touch the wrinkles. They seemed to be increasing in numbers lately. So many years of his life, and here he was. This was what he spent his whole life leading up to. Age was catching up with him, and what did he have to show for it. Single, divorced, living alone and still suffering from school boy anxiety. Not exactly what he was hoping for at this point in his life. But what had he been expecting was the question. Was he really expecting any more? 

There was a flushing sound from one of the stalls, and he jumped a little. He didn't realize anyone else was in there, and he desperately hoped nobody heard his sniffling upon his arrival. 

"Gregory?"

Shit. 

"Mr. Holmes?" 

Mycroft smiled and walked up next to him to wash his hands. He was blushing.

"Don't worry. It's not like that. I don't like urinals. Too out in the open," he laughed, thinking the shocked look on the other man's face had to do with him exiting a stall. 

"No, it's not that," Greg said, ignoring the joke. 

"Excuse me," Mycroft reached in front of him for the soap dispenser, his sleeve brushing across Greg's chest slightly causing him to exhale a little too sharply. "You alright?" Mycroft looked at him strangely. 

Dammit. His stomach tightened.

"Is this about Friday?" Mycroft asked. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have invited everyone along without asking first. I feel so bad about what happened."

"What, no..." Greg looked at the man's feet while he spoke, "I'm sorry for embarrassing you." 

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Mr. Holmes smiled and dried his hands before patting Greg on the shoulder. 

Mr. Lestrade swallowed. 

"I talked to them. I explained. They all understand, and I told them not to bring it up. They won't bring you any trouble, and neither will I. I just wanted to apologize is all."

"Thank you."

"Let's start over, shall we?"

Greg nodded.

"Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes," Mr. Holmes held out his hand.

"Greg Lestrade."

"Let's say we have lunch in the courtyard today. I have lunch duty, and I'd rather not be alone with those little demons."

"I'd like that...Mycroft."


	9. Lunch Duty

The courtyard seemed more crowded than it usually did due to the nice weather, and the amount of people was beginning to make Greg feel a little nervous. When he got there, he couldn’t find Mycroft anywhere and was forced to take a seat at the farthest table from any of the students, but still at a distance where he could see everything. His eyes scanned the yard, looking for that familiar smiling figure, but there was no sign of him. 

 

“Mr. Lestrade,” it was Jesse, Mycroft’s nephew.

 

“Oh, hi, Jesse,” he looked past him in hopes that Mycroft would appear and rescue him for what, he assumed, was going to be a very awkward conversation. “Can I help you?”

 

“What are you doing sitting out here all by yourself? Why aren’t you in the teacher’s lounge?”

 

“I’m waiting for your uncle. I said I’d share lunch duty with him.”

 

“Figures,” Jesse chuckled, “He will do anything to avoid being alone with a sea of teenagers.”

 

“I thought he liked kids.”

 

“He does,” Jesse grinned, “But he knows that I have this lunch.”

 

“Quite a bit of trouble, are ya?” Greg sighed and removed his sandwich from the lunch bag he brought. 

 

“I do my best,” the boy was proud of himself, “I just like to be involved with his life. Help him out.” 

 

The way he said it was rather forward, but Greg didn’t seem to catch any hints. His focus was still beyond his student’s head in search of his friend. 

 

“You shouldn’t get yourself involved in other people’s business,” he muttered.

 

“I just like to help. If that means I’m nosy, then I am the king of snooping. Hand me my crown.”

 

He held out his hand as if expecting an actual prize, and then frowned.

 

“Jesse!” Ian ran up behind the other boy to greet him. “Come on, the guys are having an arm wrestling contest on the other side of the yard. It’s Jack against Billy. You don’t want to miss this!”

 

He waved to Mr. Lestrade and then ran off with Jesse. Thankfully, as soon as they left, Greg caught sight of Mr. Holmes slipping out the door from the cafeteria with a bottle of orange juice in his hands and a bag of pretzels. 

 

“Mycroft!” he exclaimed, his voice showing more excitement than he intended. 

 

“Excuse my tardiness,” Greg caught a touch of amorous humor in his voice, but he let it slide, figuring it was all in his head, and smiled. 

 

“I got tied up in the hall. A bunch of boys were spray-painting one of the lockers. Had to sort it out. Kids these days…” he sat down across from Greg and handed him the orange juice and pretzels. 

 

“Oh, I already have a lunch,” he motioned to the brown bag in front of him, “Thank you though.”

 

“Suit yourself,” he proceeded to opening the bag of pretzels and sucking the salt off of them before chewing. “I always eat them this way. I hope it doesn’t make your uncomfortable,” he laughed a little. 

 

Greg just shook his head. 

 

“So,” Mycroft took a sip from his orange juice, the liquid spilling down his chin slightly, causing him to have to lick the corner of his face a little-Greg shifted in his seat. “How are things? You seemed a little out of it this morning in the bathroom. I don’t blame ya, nerves, ya know.”

 

“Ya, nerves…” Greg’s eyes looked off behind Mycroft at nothing in particular.

 

“Are you ok?” Mycroft asked after some silence, “You’ve been really jumpy around me. Am I making you uncomfortable? Because just tell me, and I’ll stop whatever it is,” he seemed legitimately concerned, but Greg didn’t know how to explain what was bothering him. 

 

“No,” was the only word he could find.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s not you.”

 

“Well, then what is it?”

 

Greg sighed, muttering something that Mycroft could barely hear. The other man thought for a moment, and then smiled.

 

“Ay, you wanna know what happened to me in one of my hours today,” he began his story which made it easier for Greg to cheer himself up.

 

The two talked the entire lunch period, neither of them really paying much attention to the actual duties they were responsible for, and the whole experience made Greg nearly forget what had been bothering him. 

 

But then the bell rang, and the students started to disperse.

 

“Well,” Mycroft gathered his things. “That’s our cue.”

 

“This is it, Greg,” Greg thought, anxiously to himself. 

 

He didn’t really want to have to ask, but it had been eating away at him all weekend.

 

“Mycroft?” he reached to grab the other man’s arm, but hesitated.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Um, do you want to get coffee with me tomorrow after school?” 

 

Mycroft studied him for a moment, and Greg wasn’t sure if he was surprised or confused, but his worries were silenced when the corners of the other man’s lips turned up into a giant grin. 

 

“Like I’d say no to coffee.” 

-

Jesse, Ian, and a few of the other kids in their class gathered near the bathrooms after school that day to discuss something they had all been thinking. 

"Do you really think..." Ian asked. 

"It's obvious, isn't it?" 

"Have you asked him?"

"Well, I've been indirect about it, but he said no."

"And do you believe him?"

"Not a chance."


	10. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brush off the cobwebs. I'm back!

Greg leaned against the door to his classroom doing his best not to look desperate while he waited for Mycroft. A few straggling students past him and waved, but he was alone for the most part. He could see the other man moving back and forth in the room across the hall, carrying piles of books to the back of the room. Greg considered going over there and helping him, but he felt like his feet were glued to the tile. He couldn't even understand what had compelled him the day before to ask his co-worker out for coffee. Wait, did he ask Mycroft out on a date?!?! No, that would be ridiculous. He swallowed. Seriously, what was he doing just standing there. 

He took a step forward, but froze when Mycroft spotted him and exclaimed, "Mr. Lestrade! I'll just be a minute." 

The way he said it sounded like he had noticed him before, but just then decided to laugh at Greg's awkwardness and acknowledge him. Greg rubbed his neck. 

"Well don't just stand there, ya idiot," Mycroft poked his head back in the doorway, "Help me with some of these books. I'm almost done."

Greg hesitated but crossed the hall or rather, to him, the road that divided Greg from normality and his irregular emotional state. Sweat beads began to form along his hairline. 

"Something wrong?" Mycroft laughed, handing Greg some books.

"No, not at all," Greg muttered and grabbed three more books in addition to the two Mycroft had given him. 

"Woah," Mycroft smiled, "Hold up, tough guy. You're gonna fall over," he took one of the books from him, and Greg had to hold his breathe to prevent himself from saying something stupid. 

After a few more trips to the front of the room and back, the two finished carrying the books, and Mycroft grabbed his coat. 

"Ready to go?"

"What?" Greg had somehow forgotten why he was even there, something about Mycroft's comment earlier. 

"Coffee?" His co-worked laughed. "Remember, you and me." 

"Oh, right. Sorry..." Greg blushed.

"No worries. Let's go." 

-

It was a little shop, barely big enough for more than a dozen people to sit inside, but there were some tables outside for those willing to endure all of Mother Nature's mood swings. Luckily the shop was pretty much abandoned that day except for an old man with his newspaper and a couple in their twenties discussing their latest encounters with kids they knew from high school. Mycroft ordered just regular black coffee, so Greg felt a little awkward asking for a caramel iced coffee. 

"Picked up some things from the kids already?" Mycroft laughed.

"Shut up," his cheeks flushed red, "I liked caramel." 

The lady at the counter made their drinks, and Greg handed her some money.

"Have a good day," she chimed.

"Thank you," the two men said in unison.

The two of them sat down at the table near the window. At first Greg was a little jittery and didn't know what to talk about, but Mycroft soon filled in the silence.

"So, Greg Lestrade. Greg. Greg." 

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Right..."

"So tell me about yourself Greg."

"What?"

"That's what people do, don't they?" 

"What do you mean?"

"On dates."

"What?"

"Oh, excuse me," Mycroft's face turned bright pink, "I just assumed that's what this was. Not many people ask me out for coffee." 

"Oh...that's alright," Greg's voice trailed off. "Well, um..." He told the other man basic information about himself, but decided to leave out the depression he had been through. "What about you? If Jesse's your nephew, I assume you have a brother, sister then?"

Mycroft took a sip of his coffee.

"A brother."

"Really? What's he like?"

"He's my kid brother. Sherlock's his name."

"Sherlock?"

"Ya. You can probably guess that mommy and daddy had a thing for unique names," he put emphasis on the word "unique" and laughed a little. "We were always the highlights at our school, you can imagine. Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes."

"Haha yea..." Greg swallowed, "So, tell me about him."

"Well, Jesse's his son, my nephew, the obvious. His husband John and him work together."

"Office romance?"

"I'll say. Before they got together, I was always secretly praying Sherlock would stop being so oblivious. I mean, looking back on it, there really was no question. But now the two are pretty much inseparable. Main reason being that if John wasn't around to watch him, the world might explode. And if it's not Sherlock's doing, the end of the world will be in Jesse's hands. He's just like his father, that one. Poor John, I don't know how he does it."

"I think it's sweet though," Greg says, "ya know, how much he cares for him. And no matter how rambunctious Jesse can be, they raised a good kid."

"I know," Mycroft smiled, "I love him more than I like to admit sometimes."

"You're a good uncle."

"Ha, thanks...I try my best."

"What about you?" Greg asked, "Dont you have someone?"

"Given how I thought this was a date, no," he chuckled, "I don't really get people."

"Really? Everyone seems to love you."

"I make my way in the world, but I've never really felt at home anywhere. At least I got Jesse and Sherlock when he wants to be brotherly. And John calls me every once and awhile to see how I'm doing."

"Well you have me," Greg felt like punching himself in the face for such a corny response, but Mycroft appreciated the effort. 

"Thanks, Gregory."


	11. Chapter 11

By the time they took their last sips, the sky was looming a bright shade of pink. It was a school night ever wise Mycroft would've invited Greg over for dinner because, truth be told, he really liked hanging out with the other man. It was a strange feeling really. Definitely not something he was used to but also not something he would want to get too comfortable with. Impressions tend to confuse and disappoint. He'd want to be careful. But for the time being, the feeling Greg's company gave him was enjoyable and something he would come to crave more often. 

He felt awkward though as the night approached and the two of them exited the shop. It could've been the shaky start or his continuous anxiety, but he felt rather stupid. The whole point of this was to make Greg feel better, but being alone with him caused Mycroft to think who really was the strong one here. At least his friend wouldn't feel so alone at school now. That was the goal first and foremost, right? Still though, wasn't his position to remain the leadership figure. Caring is not something on your side, he'd come to realize, and damn him if John was right. 

"Thank you, Mycroft," Greg said with a slight smile that made Mycroft's face feel warm.

"For what?" 

"Ya know, for giving me another chance. I was such an idiot the last time."

"And I guess I was this time, so that makes us even," Mycroft laughed. 

"Ha, ya I guess it does," Greg smiled. 

"Hey, um, do you wanna go to the cinema this weekend?"

"Don't you have tests to grade?"

"The little terrors can wait a few extra days," Mycroft grinned, "Besides, if I get home now, I'll have a head start," he fixed the collar on his jacket. "So, how bout it?"

"I'd like that."

-

"You Holmes men, I swear," the tone of John's voice was near breaking into unstoppable laughter. "Seriously, why is it so hard for you two to be human?"

"It's not that easy," Mycroft argued, although he knew it would be of no use because John was right as always. "I'm just not so good with this sort of thing."

"So you're admitting to it then?" 

"I didn't say that."

"But you are implying it."

"No, I'm bloody not."

"Look, Mycroft, you asked him to a movie. Even if that doesn't meant anything to you, it sure as hell isn't going to appear platonic to him. Don't you think you're confusing him a bit?"

"I'm just trying to be nice to him. Give him a friend."

"Mycroft, don't tell me you wouldn't go call that boy right now and tell him to call it off because you are too afraid of judgement or is it rejection? There's a line, Mycroft and you either cross it or you don't. Now, you don't have to tell me, but I know a thing or two about denial, and this smells like it," his voice stiffened. 

"I'm not leading him on, John. I'm just not certain."

"Certain of what? Jesse's told me what happens at school. It's only been a bit over a week, and he's seen the two of you together nonstop. He says you look adorable together." 

"And you're saying that means I have to fuck him?" he had to say that his brother-in-law had picked up on Sherlock's nosiness-great, three of em' now. 

"No, I'm just saying that..."

"I barely know him John. I'm just saying I enjoy his company. Can't some chaps just go to a movie. It's a comedy, it's not like it's the Titanic." 

"Mhm, Leonardo Dicaprio." 

"You filthy animal. You are a married man," Mycroft laughed out loud, "Don't let Jesse hear you say that. The boy will never let it go."

"And where do you think he gets that from? Seems to be a Holmes tradition."

"Welcome to the family..." Mycroft mumbled. 

"Look, I don't want anyone to get hurt. Just promise me that you will think about it, it might be good for you, but also keep everyone's best interests in mind. We want you to be happy, Mycroft."

"Ha, we..."

"Yes, I know he'd rather die than admit it, but Sherlock has a heart too."

"Ha, you'd know..."

"Yes, I would." 

"John, is that my brother you're talking to?" A voice called from the background.

"Yea, you wanna say something?"

"Tell him Jess showed me a photo of him and his new boyfriend," Sherlock chuckled.

"Dammit."

"Hey, how bout you come over for dinner tomorrow, huh? It's spaghetti night."

"Thanks John, but I have a lot of assignments to grade. In fact, I should get started on that."

"Alright, goodnight, Mycroft."

"Goodnight, John."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! I had a free period, so here ya go.

The theater was packed, and the movie the two were planning on attending was sold out. The next available showing wasn't until nearly two o'clock, and the time was only 10 in the morning. Greg felt embarrassed, standing in the middle of the theater lobby while Mycroft checked out other available films, and his stomach growled. He had woken up late and rushed there without eating in order to reach the cinema on time. To be honest, he couldn't believe that the younger man had wanted to hang out with him again. He could smell a friendship brewing, for a deeper sense of the term. There was something else there too, he could sense it, but best not act on it. After their coffee meeting, Mycroft had been texting him during classes. He supposed the students were working independently, but what impression was that really giving them? Greg had to laugh because his own students kept asking him questions whenever the little screen lit up. It made him wonder if the students were picking up on something. They were teenagers, and you know how they are... silly sex-crazed minds. But it gave him, if nothing else, entertainment. 

Mycroft grimaced and returned to where Greg was standing. 

"The film industry is really going down hill. Nothing seems particularly interesting," he said solemnly, "I'm sorry, Gregory. I really should've purchased tickets prior. This is my fault."

"No, really it's fine. I probably should be home grading anyways. But I appreciated the invitation," Greg responded, clutching his stomach which was beginning to cramp from the lack of nourishment. 

"Let's grab a bite to eat. It's on me."

"No, I couldn't. You really don't have to..."

"I'm the idiot who thought we could get in opening weekend without prepaid tickets," Mycroft laughed at his own ignorance, " it's the least I can do. There's a sandwich shop just down the street from here. I'll pay, it's not a problem at all." 

"You sure?" 

"It'd be my pleasure. And maybe afterwards we can watch a movie at my place, if that's ok?"

"Seriously?"

"Ya, sure. I mean, we have all of Sunday to grade. If the students procrastinated on the homework, then we can procrastinate on reading the crap they wrote down twenty minutes before class, right?"

"I guess so."

"Great, come on. I'm famished." 

He grabbed Greg's arm and led him through the crowd towards the door. Greg's face was a little flushed, but Mycroft didn't notice. 

-

After they ate, Greg felt guilty climbing into his car and following Mycroft to his flat. It seemed wrong for him to intrude on the other man's home, especially when he should be at his own place taking care of his grading. Of course, Mycroft was right about the procrastination, but Greg found himself feeling responsible for his school work regardless. Or it could just be his anxiety. He hadn't been invited to someone's house to watch a film in forever. It just wasn't something that happened. What if he was a terrible house guest? He liked to think he was fair and pleasant, but what if he completely wrecked the place by accident? It could happen...what was he doing, he was freaking out for no reason, wasn't he? There was no point in getting all worked up. 

Mycroft's flat was very clean, organized-not at all like Greg's own. He had always meant to clean things up, but he never saw the point. Mycroft told him to make himself comfortable on the couch while he looked for some new dvds that he had recently acquired from a friend. He said they were in the bedroom somewhere, and that he'd be back in a moment. 

Greg look around the room, curiously. He spotted a few pictures of Jesse through the years. When he was little, he looked so much like Mycroft, but he started looking more like Mycroft's brother as he got older, Greg concluded having found a picture of Sherlock and Mycroft's parents. He felt awkward sitting on the sofa and stood up to take a closer look. Jesse was a very handsome boy, smart too if it wasn't for his attitude towards things. But, then again, aren't all kids his age bored of containment? Greg couldn't blame him for wanting to have a little fun in school. His grades still kept up, so it wasn't like it was a crime. 

Located next to the line of Jesse's pictures there was a wedding photo. It was black and white like most traditional wedding portraits done professionally. There was Sherlock, tall, dark and curly hair. A smug look was painted on his face. Next to him must've been his husband. The name was slipping his mind. This man was a good head shorter than Sherlock, older too (probably Greg's age or slightly younger). His hair was a silvery shade of grey with hints of the brown that used to be his dominant color here and there. Greg sensed that the man probably used to dye his hair, but then decided that age came to us all. The grey suited him better anyway. It was more sophisticated. But despite this sign, he seemed just as pleased with himself as the man he had his arms around. And in a few years, they'd have a little demon to call their own. Greg laughed at his joke, although he admired Jesse. 

Mycroft appeared behind him and startled him. 

"That's my brother and John," he said proudly, "I remember that day well because I couldn't stop laughing. The two of them are such dorks, and they refused to admit it. John's embraced it recently, but Sherlock's still somewhat of a rock." 

"Do you and your brother get along?"

"On a good day. For the most part we don't speak. John calls me occasionally though. I just spoke with him the other day."

"Is that healthy? Ya know, a relationship like that. Do you think?"

"It's the way things have always been. It's how we work. Surely you know of sibling rivalries, Gregory. It's not like it's unusual. It's petty." 

Greg nodded. 

-

The movie they watched was of little interest to Greg, but he did his best to keep focus. It was a drama, not exactly something he expected Mycroft to like, but the truth was, he didn't think he did. Throughout the whole film, he made disgusted faces at the couples that formed, saying that it would never work out. Sometimes Greg wondered if being around kids so much would rub off on you. He didn't feel comfortable asking to switch movies, and Mycroft probably felt the same, so the two of them sat silently and enjoyed a few laughs when moments rose. At some point Greg began to doze and he found himself slowly leaning towards the other man. It was not intentionally and, to be honest, he didn't notice it until a shock of realization hit him before the two touched. 

"Oh, excuse me. I'm sorry, that's embarrassing," he rubbed his neck. 

Mycroft just laughed. 

Towards the middle of the story, Mycroft jumped to his feet to escape the horror of such atrocious representations of reality and offered to make Greg a cup of tea. Greg stopped him before he could make it to the kitchen.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever get jealous of, ya know, your brother's relationship? Tell me if I'm overstepping, but I'm just curious" he said, quickly. 

"I'm not lonely if that's what you're thinking," his tone stiffened a bit, but it lightened when something funny popped into his mind, "You know, John's been calling me a hopeless romantic. He thinks I'm flirting with everyone."

"Really?"

"Ya, he even thinks that I'm trying to impress you. Ridiculous, right?" his cheeks were a little pink when he said this, but Greg was distracted by his own heart beating in his chest.

"Yea ridiculous..."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg become closer, and Greg gets a view of what the other man is really like outside of school

Greg sipped at his tea nervously as Mycroft told him more stories about his brother and his husband. It was kind of embarrassing really how intrigued he really was to be learning more and more about the other man, especially since he barely had any stories to tell himself. But he also felt awkward just sitting there. What could Mycroft be thinking about him? Did he look bored? Did he look desperate? 

"Well I've been talking long enough," Mycroft laughed, "Tell me more about you. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Greg shrugged, "There's not much to tell really."

"Oh, come on," by this point Mycroft had completely lost interest in making fun of the movie and jumped up on the couch like a teenager anxiously waiting for someone to tell them something. "Tell me more about Greg Lestrade. It's just us here."

"You're a lot friendlier than I thought," he didn't mean it to be rude, but the sudden outburst of excitement caught Greg off guard a bit, "I'm kinda surprised."

"It's called school, Gregory. You have to be professional, but after a couple of years," he reached for his coffee mug and took a sip, "You get bored." 

Greg managed a smile. 

"There's got to be something. How about an embarrassing childhood story?"

Greg shook his head.

"Oh, don't give me that. That's what childhood exists for. You do all these ridiculous things, and then you can laugh about them as adults."

"I guess so..."

"So shoot." 

Greg thought, "Well, I used to run around the house with my mom's bra on my head."

"There you go," he motioned for Greg to continue.

"And then my mom would find me and take it off my head and tell me, 'hmm...I guess I've been wearing these wrong.' And then she'd take the bra and throw it back in the clothes bin." 

"Seriously?" by this point Mycroft had returned to sitting normally, but he was laughing hysterically, "See, it's easy. Keep going."

"Oh, I don't really remember much..."

"Yes you do. Don't fuck with me, Lestrade. What about high school stories? Those are always great." 

"Oh, god, no." 

"Come on." 

"No."

"Fine, I'll go..." he cleared his throat. " When I was 14, I had a crush on this kid in my class. And it was freshman year, so they always have those dances, and I was absolutely determined to ask them to go. So I came up with this extravagant way to ask them, and I ran all the way to their house only to trip and fall. My nice clothes got all muddy, but it didn't stop me. I kept going and when she answered the door, she just laughed at me because I had grass stuck to my crotch..." he was blushing. 

"No, that's awful," but Greg couldn't help himself, his lips cracked into a giant grin, "What did she say?"

"She told me that she didn't date wild men. And I'm like, fair enough," he shrugged, "Needless to say, I wasn't really into school dances after that."

"Oh my god, well at least she wasn't a bitch about it."

"No, she was very sweet..." his voice trailed off, "Anyway, that's my teenage nightmare. Your turn..." 

"What is this a sleepover? Should I go grab the nail polish?"

"Fine, we can always watch another drama."

"No!"

"So go." 

"Ok," he sighed, "When I was 17, I used to have an obsession with Elvis Presley for some reason. Anyway, I used to lip sync to his songs in my underwear in my bedroom with the hairbrush as the microphone. And my girlfriend was supposed to come over so we could walk to the park together, but I wasn't dressed yet. And my mom just sent her upstairs..."

"Oh shit," Mycroft couldn't contain himself. 

"She broke up with me that afternoon over the phone because she had run out of the house giggling."

"Stop it," Greg glared at Mycroft for laughing and flushed red.

"I can't," he choked on saliva, but kept laughing, "I'm sorry, I'm just imaging you....oh my god. Hahaha."

"Shut up, Holmes."

"Or what? Ya gonna challenge me to a lip sync battle?" 

"No." 

The two stared at each other for a moment with curiosity more than anything. Mycroft had stopped laughing and found himself thinking about something and hating himself for it.

"Do you..."

Greg did, but he found it so right that it felt wrong to admit it. 

"I think so..."

"Huh. That's weird, ha..."

"Yea, I've never really..." 

Greg leaned forward a bit, his eyes watching Mycroft's lips, but he wasn't certain if he should advance further. 

"I don't really know if I remember how to do this..." Greg muttered, "I mean, we don't really know each other that well..."

"I suppose you're right."

"But I really want to." 

"This is really inappropriate," Mycroft eased back a bit. "But I want it too." 

He sighed and kissed Greg's cheek nervously. His skin was warm, and he yearned to press his face against Gregory's and just take in his scent even though he was screaming "shit" in his head. He didn't care.

"Do you wanna go get some ice cream or something?" he rubbed his neck. "It feels kinda warm in here, doesn't it?" 

He bit his lip.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Myroft both struggle coming to terms with nearly kissing one another, and John attempts to aid Mycroft in addressing his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I cut this off at a very inconvenient time. But I decided to resume this fic and I'm super excited.

When Greg returned home that evening after his afternoon with Mr. Holmes, he found himself cursed with images of what would've happened if he had just gone for it. There was something there, he had known it all along, but...this wasn't a fairytale. Relationships don't just begin out of nowhere when you've only known eachother for not even two weeks. That's absurd and most certainly wouldn't get either of them anywhere.But it was the perfect moment, and there was so much chemistry between the two of them even if they didn't want to fall victim to it. It was just so hard not to. But could this really be legitimate feelings? The divorce, months of depression, loneliness, perhaps it was just an intrinsic desire to have someone around, yearning for the familiar taste of another's lips, the warmth of their body up against your own. Maybe this was normal. 

Sighing, he made himself some coffee and attempted to wipe his mind of the incident but with little success. His hand shook nervously, and he brought it up to his heart as he thought about the way he had watched the other man when he left. It was solemn but the only accurate way to describe it was an expression of want.

Damn, it was like being a kid again. 

The two of them didn't speak much when classes resumed that Monday, but the beating of Greg's heart against his aching chest suggested that the matter had to be addressed eventually. He dreaded that moment.

\--------------------

 

"You kissed him?!" John was laughing hysterically on the other end of the phone which made Mycroft regret having made the call.

"No, I didn't...." He said, his stomach churning. "Not a real kiss."

"But you wanted to."

"No I...I don't know. I'm all very confused at the moment. That's why I called. I need advice...god that's hard to admit."

"Advice, really?"

"Just tell me what to do, John. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Don't make this worse than it already is."

"Just hold it together. You're being so dramatic."

"Dramatic? I almost kissed a guy I just met. I'm freaking out. I don't know what is wrong with me. I'm an adult, I shouldn't be acting like this."

"Just calm down, it's not like you had sex with him."

"Sex with who?!" Jesse's voice was close to the receiver, suggesting he had been listening. 

"For petesake, John, why didn't you...Jesse, this is adult business. Go do your homework or something," Mycroft's face was heating up from anger and embarrassment.

"But who did you have sex with? Was it Mr. Lestrade? Oh gosh, it was, wasn't it!"

"Hun, go see what your dad's up to. Uncle Mycroft and I are having a serious conversation."

"Oh come on," he whined.

"I didn't have sex with anyone, Jesse, but can you please just let me and your father talk alone."

"Alright..." And he was gone.

"Teenagers," John chuckled.

"That's what I feel like, honestly. Maybe those kids are beginning to rub off on me after all. Do you think I may be just making this all up in my head?"

"Depends. Did he seem reluctant at all?"

"No...it's just...He was very sweet, and he put up with me all afternoon which you of all people should know is a very difficult thing to do sometimes."

"It's sounds like he likes you too. So what's the problem?"

"It's just hard to wrap my mind around. I've always been alone. I hate to say you were right, but I never thought I'd...it's all so unrealistic. People don't just fall for other people so suddenly. That's not how reality works."

"I don't know. I mean, think about how Sherlock and I met. First interaction we ever had was him telling me the address of where the flat was that we would be sharing. Two minutes into conversation and we are moving in together. Several years later, here we are. Sherlock may be a dickhead, but I managed to find my way around it. Funny how stuff like that works."

"Yea, I suppose."

"So who knows, maybe you and this Gregory fellow just hit it off. I take that as a lucky break. You obviously have a mutual attraction to one another, why not go for it. Really Mycroft what are you waiting for?"

"It's just so fast, my mind is boggling."

"Mycroft," John lowered his voice because there was no doubt Jesse was still eavesdropping. "You and I both know I am not a credible source when it comes to love advice. I spent years denying that I could possibly be in love with someone like Sherlock, and the first time I admitted it was in a fit of anger when he wouldn't shut up about Mary and I. It was painful, and I was lonely, and not thinking clearly when I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. He was so thick in the head, impossible to talk to most days, but I found myself just screaming I love you at him whether he understood or not. My first time with a man was out of mindless rage and fear. The next morning I woke up naked in bed with Sherlock asleep next to me more confused and scared than I have ever been in my life. Something like that should be a one time only, never to be spoken of again thing. But I ended up marrying him. I'm not good at expressing my feelings either. I make fun of you and Sherlock all the time, but honestly I'm a hypocrite and I know it. I don't know the first thing about the inter workings of a traditional relationship. All I know is that, looking back, I wish I would've said something sooner because apparently all those sleepless nights I had back then were not about work or whatever else might've been bothering me at the time. They were about Sherlock. I was in love with him, and I couldn't bring myself to accept it." 

"You never talked to me about Sherlock like that," Mycroft said softly. 

"I guess I never had any reason to. And just you wait, he's probably standing next to Jesse behind the door just now, and he'll never let it go. Even now I'm not so explicit with my thoughts. It's not just with you, but with everyone. I guess the Holmes' family stubbornness has corrupted me too, eh?"

"So what should I do?"

"Call him."

"What, now?! I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"But what do I say?"

"Just tell him what you told me. This is all going really fast, and you didn't mean for things to progress like they did. It's best that the two of you remain friends, at least for now. Tell him you're sorry and you would like to start over." 

"Now I really feel like a teenager again."

"It happens to the best of us, Mycroft. Just promise me you won't let the opportunity slide when it comes. It'll be a big mistake in the long run, trust me."

"Thanks, John. And please don't tell Sherlock."

"Don't worry. I've developed ways of preventing him from asking questions."

"You're disgusting sometimes."

"I'm married, I don't have to hide it anymore."

\----------------------

Greg stared at his phone; it had gone off five times, but he still couldn't bring himself to answer it. He ran over in his head a million times what had happened, but there was no possible response he could think of. How do you tell a man you just met that you think you are falling in love with them? 

The buzzing sound resumed, and he had no choice but to explain what he had been thinking. He pressed the button hesitantly and brought his mobile up to his ear.

"Mr. Holmes, hello..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward tension arises during school hours as Greg and Mycroft attempt to come to terms with what occurred between them. Despite Mycroft's wishes, John talks to Sherlock about what's going on with his brother.

"Mr. Lestrade," the voice was distant, hardly able to penetrate Greg's wall of thought. "Mr. Lestrade," they repeated. 

Greg blinked his eyes a few times and muttered something that was pretty much jibberish unless you were paying close attention. The student in front of his desk was Ian, a friend of Jesse's as he recalled. He could see the child's lips moving, but his sleep-deprived brain registered none of what he was saying. 

"Mr. Lestrade."

There it was again with the Mr. Lestrade. 'What do you want' he wanted to scream, but Ian didn't deserve that for it was Greg who wasn't focusing. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes which were bloodshot from staring at the wall for most of the night. It stung to keep them open, but he had a job to do. Work before personal issues he always said. 

"My apologies," he said sleepily, "Can I help you, Ian?" 

"I just wanted to ask where the outside reading list was, but...I also...are you ok, sir? You don't look well."

"It's posted on the back wall," Greg pointed, "And I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem really out of it."

"Didn't get much sleep last night. Personal-erm, adult business, nothing you need to be concerned about. Just return to your seat," he groaned as he touched his aching forehead. 

"Maybe you should go to the nurse and get some aspirin."

"Perhaps later. I got stuff to grade, things to organize for later this week. Don't worry about me, you have an essay to write, best use your time wisely so there's less to do for homework."

Ian nodded and left Greg alone for the remainder of the period which he appreciated because, by the time the bell rang, his head was on the verge of exploding. 

"Mr. Lestrade," he didn't need to look up to recognize Jesse's voice.

"Have you talked to my uncle today?"

"No, I haven't...why?"

"No reason, he just seemed bothered by something when I saw him earlier. He didn't even wave to me like he normally does."

"Maybe he's just stressed. Don't blame him. But why ask me, if you're curious, just pop over there yourself."

"Do you think he's mad at me?"

Greg sighed, "Jesse, this really isn't an appropriate conversation to discuss with a teacher. May I suggest talking to your parents. I'm sure they would know or at least could ask if you are not comfortable approaching him."

"Are you alright, Mr. Lestrade? You seem a little jittery."

He was right. Greg looked down at his hands which were shaking terribly. He had forgotten to eat breakfast before he left for work that morning, he was too preoccupied with what would happen if he ran into Mr. Holmes. He managed to avoid him for the duration of Monday's school hours, but it was Tuesday now, and an awkward meeting was inevitable. His voice rang in his ears, "I'm sorry for the mixed messages I may have given you." It seemed so unreal to accept an apology for something that, for all Greg knew, could've been his own fault. Hell, it was his fault. It was ridiculous to just throw yourself at someone and expect them to reciprocate those feelings. But still, Mycroft didnt resist...at least until the end. They were so close. "Maybe we should just be friends, at least for now." It hurt. It's silly to say that because Greg himself was most to blame for misinterpreting kindness for flirting, but there was still pain if not from rejection than from embarrassment. 

"I think I just need some fresh air," he told the boy.

He stood up, and Jesse moved aside for him to get through, but not without saying, "he likes you, ya know."

"It's in your best interest to stay out of other people's business. Have a good day, Jesse."

"You too."

He left, but Greg caught him whispering something to his uncle who had, Greg presumed, been heading for his room to talk. A million things were swarming his brain at that moment, but the only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get out of there. He couldn't face Mycroft in the state he was in, that wasn't even an option. But how could he sneak past with Mr. Holmes directly in front of his room? The answer is, he couldn't. Fuck. You just had to get yourself wrapped up in this mess, didn't ya, Greg? Why did you agree to go to the cinema? Anyone in the right mind would've thought that was a date, right? Would it be wrong to assume both of them thought it was a date? But look how that turned out. This is so inappropriate. How does this even happen? So many questions, so little time to think. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

\--------------------

"Hey, Myc," Jesse approached Mr. Holmes cheerfully, but was not greeted with the same level of kindness as he would normally expect from his uncle.

"It's Mr. Holmes during academic hours, you know that," but Jesse hardly ever obeyed that rule, so why the sudden disgust? 

"Are you ok? You seem grouchy."

"I'm fine. Just behind on grading is all...typical teacher problems...shouldn't you be heading to your next class? You don't have all day to wander you know, this isn't a playground, you do have actual work to do," Mycroft yawned and ruffled Jesse's hair a bit, "Come by later. You can help me put up some new posters."

"Ok, yea, sure, but..."

"Jess, really I'm fine."

"Well what about that conversation you had with John? You didn't sound fine. And yesterday I barely saw you. What were you doing, just hiding in your classroom? You got to talk to him eventually."

"I don't know what you're talking about, and, frankly, I should have a talk with John about keeping you and Sherlock away from the phone when I call. It's rude to listen in on other people's private discussions."

"Mr. Lestrade," Jesse lowered his voice, "You can't just ignore him forever. It was a simple mistake. And besides, you should see him, he's a wreck."

"Jesse, I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but I'm a grown man, and I can take care of myself. It was my mistake, I'll handle it. And I would appreciate it if this information would not be spread across the student body. You hear me?" His voice was stern, and Jesse nodded. "Now run along before you are late."

Mycroft watched his nephew as he disappeared in a sea of teenagers. He felt bad for scolding the poor boy, but he had to learn sooner or later how to determine if his help is wanted or not-and now it wasn't wanted. It wasn't needed either. The talk he had had with Lestrade had been concise, and regrets were expressed with very little distress. Things should continue like normal. Or at least that's what he hoped. 

He turned and spotted Greg peering at him from his desk across the hall. He smiled at him, and the other man waved nervously. Maybe things weren't alright...

"Good morning, Mr. Lestrade. How are you?" he tried his best to maintain a calm tone, although his voice cracked a little-Greg didn't notice.

"To be honest, exhausted. Spent all night writing an exam I should've had finished already. But I guess procrastination isn't exclusive to the students, am I right?" he laughed, but it was obvious he was uncomfortable. "Um, how are you?"

"Greg," Mycroft closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath, "About what happened... I know calling you on the phone wasn't the best way to handle it, and I'm sorry. I just wanted to say in person how...how glad I am that we are friends, and I apologize again for making this awkward between us. I wasn't in my right mind to lead you on like that."

"No, it was my fault for the misconception," Greg said quickly.

"I just want you to know that I want to be around you. I want to hang out, if that's not too weird. I just...I don't think I'm ready for THAT." 

"I understand."

"So are we..."

"We're ok," Greg whispered, "But we should try to keep this whole thing under the radar. My students are already a little suspicious of me. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Would it be weird to ask if you would have lunch with me today?"

"I would like that."

\-------------------

"Sherlock?" John had just finished the dishes that evening after dinner, and he couldn't help but be concerned about how Jesse had described his encounter with Mycroft that afternoon. There was a promise he wanted to keep to prevent Sherlock from poking his head where it didn't belong, but he worried for Mycroft's sanity if he didn't not talk to somebody. The rewards outweighed the effect of Mycroft's anger if he found out John had let the cat out of the bag. But if they were being honest, Sherlock would acquire the information one way or another even without John's involvement. Most of that had already been done by the courtesy of their son.

"Sherlock, can you come in here?"

It took a moment, but the younger man eventually appeared from his study. He yawned and muttered something about how the food was good, although he probably had not even touched it yet-must've gone cold by then, but John didn't want to argue when Sherlock skipped bonding time to work on a recent project. 

"Sherlock, have you spoken with Mycroft?" 

"I'm fairly certain you're the only one who's done that. We hate each other, remember?"

"All siblings have fights. It's about time you two get over that silly rivalry. It's childish," John scolded, "It's moments like this that make me happy we didn't have another kid. Jesse would have a tantrum, it'd be a madhouse. I swear, he's just like you, that one."

Sherlock grinned a little, "That a problem?" he approached his husband and kissed him passionately which was not a regular thing these days. 

"No," John laughed, "it's just hard to keep track of both of you."

"Oh, but John you love this. No matter how much you would prefer to deny it," the way his eyes sparkled when he said this made John remember just how much he loved him...also how much he hated him. 

"I can't get past you. Never could."

"Do you ever regret marrying me?"

"Not for a second," John responded instantly, "but...I just think that...look, Sherlock, we're family. You, me, Jesse, AND Mycroft. You can't just ignore that he's a major influence on our lives. Think about all he's done for you, for us, don't you ever wonder what's going on in his life?"

"When it interests me."

"You're terrible. He's your brother, and there's obviously something wrong in his personal life, so you owe it to him to help out. He likes this man, don't you want him to be happy?"

"I joke about Mycroft's relationships with people, John, but I'm sincere when I say that he is incapable of falling for someone. He's always been distant and pushes away the people he fears he will develop feelings for. If he does miraculously approach this man in a romantic manner, anxiety will take hold before there's even a chance for success. Despite how I feel about the wellbeing of his life and the things that contribute to that, I can't change him."

"Maybe not. But you could at least encourage him. Your description of him, doesn't it sound familiar? That's pretty much spot on to the image I had of you when we first met. Now look at you, look at us, we're here right now and I'm happier than I've ever been. Aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Mycroft came to our wedding, and he supported us. Originally he was bitter, but now he's a loving and supportive uncle for Jesse. Wouldn't it be great if we could do the same for him one day?"

"I suppose.... As long as I don't have to perform a best man's speech like with you and Mary."

"You must really want me to slap you..." But John had to laugh. "So will you talk to him?" 

Sherlock groaned in response, and John accepted that it was as close to a yes as he was going to get. His husband had the attitude of a toddler.

"Just for the record, that best man's speech..."

"Don't even start, Watson."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse discusses his plan with his parents on how to get Mycroft and Greg together (A little Johnlock fun included)

Several weeks had passed from the awkward incident that occurred between Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Holmes, and things were finally starting to return to normal. Pushing away any romantic desires for one another, both men found the maturity to reevaluate their priorities all while maintaining a platonic relationship, much to the dismay of Jesse. During the chunk of time in which his uncle spent searching for his sanity in a whirlwind of fairy tales, the boy dedicated himself to plotting that happily ever after Mycroft had for so long deserved. 

At first it seemed impossible to get any good information out of either teacher-things they liked, romantic fantasies, that sort of thing- but, then again, he wasn't expecting much from direct questioning. In terms of his uncle, it would be easy just to pry the information from Sherlock or John, but Mr. Lestrade was another ballgame. Suppose he could just go generic, everyone loves roses and chocolate and dinner is always good, cliche but who turns down a free meal? Mycroft loved the little Italian bistro on the corner from his house, but it would be too hard to drag them both to a restaurant, too obvious. But what if he could get it catered? But if he was going to do catering, it'd be more expensive. Maybe he could negotiate with the home ec department. And perhaps he could convince some orchestra students to play and the choir.Of course that was a level of persuasion that would be impossible for a single student to pull off, and Jesse didn't have any to trade for the services. He was at a loss.

"Jess, I admire you wanting to help your uncle, but do you really think posing a romantic dinner in the school gym is going to be the answer?" John finished folding the last pair of Jesse's trousers before joining him on the edge of the bed. "I mean, that's quite a spectical."

"I know, but, imagine how surprised they would both be. They'd definitely want to get together if something like that happened. What if Sherlock planned something like that for you? What would you say then?"

"Jesse, I don't expect you to pay attention to the way your father and I interact, but he's not really the romantic type. If he were to cook me a fancy dinner, I'd be looking for an eyeball in the punch," he earned a laugh from his son, "But I didn't need some big show to fall in love with him. I married him because he made me feel special, and I enjoy being around him."

"Yesterday you called him a dickhead," Jesse pointed out.

"The fact that I married his ass does not mean he isn't bloody annoying," John said loud enough so that if Sherlock was listening he would hear it clearly. "My point is, you can't expect Mycroft and Mr. Lestrade to elope just because you set this whole thing up for them. It doesn't work like that. In fact, they may feel obligated to give you what you want because there's so many people watching, it would be embarrassing not to. Do you really think that will help their relationship?"

"I guess not...but I have to do something. I see them together all the time, but neither of them are going to go for it on their own."

"I don't know what to tell you, Jess, if you want to help, stay out of their business. If this is meant to be, it'll happen on its own."

"Well, what about dad? He talked to Uncle Myc the other day, didn't he? What does he think?"

"Uncle Myc has a keen sense for detecting liers, he spotted Sherlock's motive from a mile away...look, how about this. Convince Mycroft to chaperone your school dance next week, Mr. Lestrade too. Then tell your uncle there's a special down at the bistro he likes, he won't go alone. If he really likes this person, he'll ask him. If things go well, they'll be hanging around eachother at the dance. Bribe the DJ for a love song. There's your cliche romance."

"Wow, when did you come up with that?"

"I've been holding on to it ever since your uncle got that job. I don't care what Sherlock says, Mycroft was bound to crack eventually. Now you just gotta increase his confidence."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know. You'll think of something. You're a clever kid."

"Mycroft's birthday is this Thursday. What if I can get Mr. Lestrade to write him a card."

"And by that, you mean forge a card?"

Jesse smiled, "Now I see why dad likes you."

"What is that supposed to mean? That was not a suggestion, I was merely guessing what your plan was."

"Oh, John, you're in denial again," Sherlock appeared from the kitchen in his signature blue bathrobe which was open, revealing his boxers. 

"Denial?" he tried his best not to notice the chocolate on the man's chest which John assumed was from sneaking a cookie before dinner-something that under normal circumstances, meaning without their son in the room, would result with John's tongue on his lover's skin. "What are you talking about?" He bit his lip.

"John, John. Admit it, you're just as addicted to mischief as any of us. You blame me for corrupting you, but come on, deep down, you feel just as much satisfaction in meddling. After all, who's the one who told me to talk to Mycroft? Obviously, you want this just as much as Jesse does."

"Oh, but you told me you didn't care. Now you're encouraging this. What does that say about you? Deduce that, Mr. Holmes."

"Well now it's interesting."

"You're an asshole, you know that."

John glared at him, an expression that might as well be tattooed on his face because he had been making it since the moment he and Sherlock met. Sherlock just grinned that stupid know-it-all smile that John had grown to despise over the years. Seriously, if Jesse hadn't been there, he would slap that cheeky smirk right off his husband's face, assuming he didn't get to that chocolate stain first. 

"Mycroft was right, there is so much sexual tension between you two, how did you not get together sooner?"

The both of them looked at their son with a loss of words. What the hell was a parent supposed to say to that? So they didn't speak a word, they just burst out laughing. 

"So will you help me then?" Jesse asked with his pathetic puppy dog face.

"Why did I put myself into this?" John sighed and left the room which Sherlock and Jesse took as a sign that he was in.

Sherlock looked down at his son and slipped him a five dollar bill, "You were right about the chocolate."

Jesse examined the money proudly, "Well, as much fun as it is to bet on my parents' sex life, I've got work to do."

"You make it sound so inappropriate."

"It's my job."

"Ten bucks you'll stay in your room for an hour while I distract John from cooking dinner?"

"Deal."

"That's my boy."


	17. Chapter 17

The hallway was lit up with color the next morning as Mr. Holmes entered the school, a theatrical reminder of teenage hormones boiling with anticipation for the upcoming dance-something Mycroft himself never understood. It wasn't so much the dance itself, they were fun and ticket sales benefited the student council, but, to be honest, he didn't expect a school event to acquire so much attention. All the hype is just...unnecessary. Without a doubt this year's dance would be just like the previous year's-the corny pickup lines, the hundreds of dollars spent on dresses and suits the student will never wear again, and the social media fireball of selfies. Not to mention the amount of illegal activity that most likely goes on off campus...it's just an opportunity to glorify cliches and for some reason that Mycroft couldn't wrap his head around they don't seem to care. 

Although, he supposed, the cliches weren't all bad. As a kid Mycroft had never been to a school dance, but he would fantasize about meeting the perfect girl on the dance floor and seeing their whole life together flash before his eyes in that one moment when their gazes fell on eachother. The girl he had in mind was imaginary of course, most of the girls at school picked on him after all, but the idea kept him motivated. Just thinking that somewhere there was someone who wouldn't care about how he looked or how socially awkward he was...it gave him a purpose. Big surprise though, the girl never did show up, and Mycroft was kinda glad she didn't. He had moved on from that fantasy. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to let go of his new one. 

Not surprisingly, his nephew had pushed John and Sherlock to assist in his efforts to mess with Mycroft's love life, so now he had the whole Watson-Holmes clan on his case. But that's the thing, usually Mycroft would be upset by this, but the longer Jesse persisted, the more Myc began to notice about his friendship with Gregory.

The uphill trek began at lunch earlier that week. Greg had retreated to the boys locker room downstairs for lunch to avoid being assigned monitoring duty in the cafeteria, and Mycroft was asked to accompany him. It was nice down there for the most part-quiet, personal- although it smelled faintly of old socks which didn't help either of their appetites much. 

"How are your classes?" Mycroft had asked-an awkward question he supposed, but anything to spark a conversation. 

Greg had simply shrugged and said something about grading techniques that slipped Mycroft's mind. He was too focused on anticipating the mention of Jesse. He had wanted to keep an eye on that boy, he's been kinda distant as of late which was never a good sign-meant he was up to something. 

"But enough about me" Wait he was still talking ("shit!" Mycroft thought) "What about you?"

"I'm well," he responded as if by instinct. 

Greg nodded and proceeded to take a bite of his sandwich, a clump of peanut butter clung to the side of his mouth and Mycroft's eye was immediately drawn to it. The older man scarcely noticed and continued munching. Mycroft frowned-the spot taunted him, he wanted to wipe it off or perhaps lean forward and lick...no, god what was he thinking. 

"You have some peanut butter right here," he acted as natural as he could as Greg reached for a napkin.

Mycroft eyed him nervously. What was going on? He had promised himself that he wouldn't go down this road again...at least so soon. But when will it not be too soon anymore? Will it always be too soon? Love was something always loitering in the back of his mind, but he kept kicking it out. Perhaps it was time to stop running away from things. 

Or maybe this was just a relapse and there was nothing to worry about....something in his gut claimed that was not the case.

The next incident occurred during a pep assembly the following day. Mycroft's phone had rung from his pants pocket, John most likely, but when he shifted to pull it out, given the small distance bleachers allow between occupants, his hand touched Greg's butt accidentally. 

FUCK

"It's a little early for that don't you think?" Greg had laughed to compensate. 

"Ha..ya."

DAMMIT. His stomach was in his throat. 

"Are you alright?" Greg asked him, legitimately concerned.

Mycroft gulped and pushed back his hair, realizing he was sweating. He laughed uncomfortably and excused himself to the restroom where he proceeded to pace back and forth before feeling light headed and having to sit down. He didn't return to the assembly but instead remained on the bathroom floor clutching at his belly which had suddenly begun to feel a bit queasy. Dang, why was it so hot in there, he pulled at his shirt collar and hoped that nobody would come and find him like this. His eyes rolled back and he felt the bile creep up his throat, he hadn't eaten anything that morning so that's pretty much all it was. It burned in his throat but he managed to swallow the mess before it could escape. Leaning back against the wall he thought about how he and Greg had ended it before it could even begin. There were so many questions of what would've happened if he had just repressed his insecurities and gone for it. 

He sighed and closed his eyes. Eventually a student found him passed out on the floor, and the next thing he knew he was sitting upright in his bed. John had taken him home. There was bound to be a lecture in the near future...

The only thing Mycroft could remember after that was a text from Greg that said to get better soon. He had stared at it for a long while, embarrassed that his colleague had been the one to find him on the floor of the men's room, comatose. Still, he was a little relieved. After all, anyone else might've thought he was drunk and gone looking for the flask. Talk about fucked up priorities.

Vaguely the memory of a dream he had had that night returned, an image of him and Greg on the dance floor-that same fantasy he had come to know inside and out over the years, but this time it felt so much more right. Yet, he had woken up crying.

But back in the present Mr. Holmes felt rather cheery. Although the "what ifs" prodded at his brain, he found himself reveling in the friendship he currently had with Mr. Lestrade. He didn't want to screw that up. 

Today they were to meet up for a pint after work at the local bar which had Mycroft excited because it would get his mind off of his meddling family. And who knows, maybe he'll get trashed and forget all about these conflicting thoughts he's been having. 

"Ay Mr. Holmes" suddenly he turned and spotted the shining face of Mr. Perfect himself among the clump of students heading to the library. 

"Look who it is, the Silver Fox" he smiled and waved at his friend, not yet realizing that Jesse would soon appear behind him and cause him to jump and spill his morning coffee all over his work clothes.

"Jesse, for gods sake! You nearly gave me a heart attack, and look, you ruined my good shirt."

"Sorry, Uncle Myc, I just wanted to tell you something. I didn't mean to..."

"Well why did you have to just pop out of nowhere? You know I hate surprises."

"Spur of the moment, I was just heading to your classroom but you were here so I just came over, and...ya sorry."

"What did you want?" 

"John wanted me to tell you there's a deal down at that bistro you like next week."

"Well that's great, Jess, but I'm afraid I will have to postpone the enthusiasm because now I have to go find something else to wear."

"I have some sweats and a t-shirt in the closet in my room," Greg met up with them in the middle of the hall, "I was gonna change after work, but obviously they are needed for a more urgent cause haha. It's not ideal, I know, but..."

"Thank you, Gregory."

Mycroft would come to regret accepting this offer because for the rest of the day he couldn't stop thinking about how the clothes smelled of Greg. He found himself daydreaming of the couples slow dance and his arms were wrapped around his partner's shoulders as they swayed. Their eyes locked and for a moment noting else mattered in the world. It was then that Myc realized there was no way out of this. 

He was going to have to call John.


	18. Chapter 18

*the night of the school dance*

The restaurant was surprisingly dead when Greg walked in that evening. He had expected a crowd of school dance attendees chowing down on cheese platters as to not be too full to show off their moves for the DJ, but, instead merely an elderly couple sharing a bowl of strawberry sorbet and two men discussing a business deal over some ravioli. It was a struck of luck, Greg figured, because he could go right up and order before the dinner crowd piled in-it was not even five yet, but it was sure to happen soon.

"And how are you tonight, sir? May I suggest a table by the window?," the host was gracious and charming, but Greg was not in the mood to put himself in a situation where he would attempt to become acquainted and mistake kindness for something more. That appeared to be a reoccurring theme in his life story. 

"No, thank you," he responded, " Can I take a to-go order?"

"Of course, what'll it be?"

"Fettuccini-Alfredo," Greg said.

"The regular or the dinner size?"

"Regular please, and hold the broccoli."

"Yessir, anything to drink?"

"Nah, I got a bottle of wine at home that I haven't opened yet."

"That all then?"

"Yup."

"Ok," the man turned to hand the order to one of the waitresses who took it back to the kitchen. "Night in, huh?" he turned back to Greg.

"Yea, I have some papers to grade."

"You a teacher?"

"Sophomore English at Jenson High."

"Oh ya? My wife went there way back when. She was valedictorian."

"That so?"

"Damn right. We're hoping our son follows in those footsteps. Unless of course he takes after his old man. I never had good grades, I was more the slacker type. But I graduated with a basketball scholarship and I scored her, so I guess I did alright."

"What does your wife do for a living?"

"She's a neurologist. I work random jobs to help out, but she's always been the main money maker. I took care of the house and Jackson mainly-that's our son."

"It's not too late to make something of yourself," Greg mumbled automatically ("where's that pasta" he was thinking).

"Eh, I'm happy I guess. I'm proud of her for all she's done. We can pay the bills, our home is always tidy, and we raised a fine boy. That's all that matters. I haven't got the brain capacity to head back to school, and my dreams of being a basketball star are behind me. But that's alright, I found the love of my life and I don't need that stuff anymore."

"How long have you been together?"

"We met senior year of high school so 23 years just about. She changed my life."

"I'm happy for you."

"Sorry if this is getting weird, it's been a slow day, been waiting forever for someone to talk to..."

"No, it's fine."

"So what about you?"

"What?"

"You have someone?"

Greg thought for a moment but before he could respond the waitress returned with a box. She handed it to Greg and gave him a little wink, but, of course, he didn't give the action much thought. The host rang him up and he thanked him.

"So?"

"Right," Greg was about to leave, "No, I'm divorced."

"It's not too late to get back out there."

"You'll pulling that crap on me now, are ya?" he had to laugh, "I'm a little too old for romance."

"I don't think so. I don't think there's ever an age that's too old for love. I mean, look at the couple over there sharing the sorbet. They can't keep their eyes off of each other. That seems pretty romantic to me."

"I guess I'm just a little tired of trying."

"You only fail when you stop trying."

"Well I guess I failed."

"Why are you here tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you alone on a night like this? Shouldn't you be out with friends or something?"

"I don't really..."

"I know, I know, you don't know me. But I don't have to know you to see that there is something you would rather be doing than standing here talking to me? And I don't mean just not having this conversation. I mean something other than being alone eating pasta."

"I gotta go."

Greg thanked the man again for the meal and departed. The sun was starting to set as he made his way down the street to where the car was parked. The host's words remained in his head-"it's not too late". Ha, that's funny, it's been too late for awhile. Greg lost all confidence in himself when his wife left, and now there wasn't much left for him. He had ruined his chances with Mycroft, and now they couldn't even look at each other without being reminded of how awkward this relationship was. It was hard working across the hall from him because all throughout the day the only thing he could think about was starting over. Even his students had noticed that his lesson plans were mediocre at best because he couldn't stay focused.

He remembered seeing Mr. Holmes's name on the signup sheet for chaperoning the dance that night. A silly fantasy filled Greg's mind of the two of them holding each other on the dance floor with everyone watching them in silence. As weird as that would've felt in real life, it seemed peaceful and safe in his head. The image of himself happy and in love. In love...

His hand had been so close to snatching up that pen and joining him, but he held himself back. Why the hell did he do that? Fear. 

He stood there beside his car for a moment, contemplating calling him. Yes. No. Yes. No. He didn't have to choose. The universe had chosen for him.

"Mr. Lestrade!" 

Greg nearly jumped. 

"What are you doing here?" It was Mycroft alright, looked like he had had the same idea to pick up some dinner before the crowd. 

"I guess we're twins," Greg tried to smile and lifted up his box to show the other man.

"Ha, that's funny. You know it's a good thing I ran into you. Ms. Hooper canceled at the last minute, we need another chaperone up at school. You doing anything tonight?"


	19. Chapter 19

The school gymnasium was blinding from the lights and the sparkles, and Greg nearly had to squint upon entering the room. Only a few students had arrived so far but they were student council executives who signed on for prep and most likely would leave soon to change. Mycroft led the way to the back wall of the room where a table was set up with snacks and punch, and they were greeted by Ms. Mary who managed the school dance committee. She offered the two of them a sip of what Greg was certain was stronger than punch given the smell of the woman's breath, but both men kindly dismissed her. She shrugged and took a taste before retreating to the DJ station to check the setlist for the evening. 

"Do you we should say something?" Greg suggested that Ms. Mary's behavior be addressed, but Mycroft assured him that she was just taking the edge off.

"These teenagers can really get inside your head. Sometimes a person just needs to relax. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her." 

Greg spotted the familiar face of one of Mr. Holmes' students in the center of the gym with a clipboard. Eli Clover was dressed in a suit with dress shoes and a bright blue tie that matched her bangs. She scrunched up her nose as she thought about something, but then spotted Mycroft out of the corner of her eye and smiled. 

"Hey Mr. Holmes!" 

"Eli, I wasn't expecting to run into you here. Doesn't seem like your kind of event."

"It's not really," she pushed back her hair, "But I'm in STUCO, and they were missing some of the committee members. I got stuck helping Ms. Mary with management. Better than cleanup, I guess."

"At least your job is almost done. You can go and have fun. I gotta observe for "inappropriate" or "violent" behavior," Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes, "Most kids wouldn't be ignorant enough to do anything dumb while surrounded by teachers. It's not like we can monitor the choices people make off campus, so it's a formality really for me to be here. I'm just for show."

"Well, if that's the case, you should go out and dance."

"I'm not one for dancing."

"What about you, Mr. Lestrade?" she turned to look at Greg, her eyes gleaming. 

Greg scratched his head and grinned awkwardly. He had taken dance lessons as a child by his mother's request, but he had never stepped foot on the dance floor back in high school because he always saw himself as clumsy. Eli laughed and reached out her hand. 

"No, really, I..."

"Oh come on, old man," she smirked and Greg realized he had no choice in the matter.

Eli motioned towards the DJ who proceeded to press buttons and turn knobs until a song came up that pleased him. Greg’s face turned bright red. 

“Nynsc? I wasn't expecting that to be on the playlist,” Mycroft laughed at Greg’s embarrassment, and then he remembered that Greg used to have an obsession with boy bands way back when. 

Eli winked at Mr. Holmes, and pulled at Greg’s arm until he was standing in the center of the gym. 

“I figured you would be here tonight so I had the DJ mix in a few retro tunes.”

“This song isn't that old...wait, how did you know, Mr. Holmes just….” 

“Turn it up, Jackson!” the music got louder and Greg felt himself give in and, the next thing he knew, he was lip syncing and spinning around like an idiot while Mycroft laughed-his smile was Greg’s kryptonite. 

“You got some moves, Lestrade!” Mycroft called. 

“You're enjoying this way too much.”

“What can I say? I have a thing for goofballs.”

“Are you coming on to me?”

“In your dreams, Lestrade,” Mycroft smirked.

Greg quit dancing and heaved. Man, he was out of shape. But at least he had gotten Mycroft’s attention. Eli ran over and gave him a high-five. She was laughing hysterically and replayed the video she had taken of the performance.

“This will be a YouTube hit for sure.”

Lestrade’s face shown tomato red, but he figured it was worth it for the glimmer in Mycroft’s eyes. The utter embarrassment and the fact that millions of people were probably going to see that video by morning...the things you have to do in order to get someone to fall in love with you. At that moment, Greg could see the barrier collapse, and the realization flow through the other man’s body, although Mycroft was trying his best to deny it. 

“Well I’m glad someone will get a kick out of seeing me make a fool of myself,” Greg laughed. 

“Oh ease up, Mr. Lestrade. Tonight’s about having fun. Nobody cares, just be yourself,” Eli smiled at them and then ran off to attend to whatever else had to be taken care of before the dance started. 

“Punch?” Mycroft suggested.

Greg was still breathing hard, but he managed a very relieved “yes.” 

\---------------------------

The night flew by in the blink of an eye, and Mycroft couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out on his last chance to tell Greg what had been bothering him as of late. He could feel the words getting lodged in his throat, and his heart was beating too quickly for him to speak. The whole ideal had him so worked up that he called the one person he would never in a million years think to ask for help-his brother. 

Before leaving for the dance that night, Mycroft had dialed Sherlock and John had answered the phone. He considered merely speaking with his brother’s husband and avoiding the affair entirely, but there was no point. It was time for the two of them to hit the pause button on their sibling rivalry for a few minutes because Mycroft needed his advice. The thought of it made Myc sick to his stomach, but he kindly bid goodbye to John and asked to speak with Sherlock. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, brother dear?” Mycroft couldn’t help but imagine that hideous smirk that served as his brother’s trademark as he spoke. 

“Can’t you act like an adult for once? This is important.”

“No need to be defensive. I’m just trying to be, how does Mommy put it...polite,” the word burned his tongue, Mycroft could tell.

“Cut the shit, Sherlock...I need your help.”

“Yes, John’s told me you’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation. I'm honored, really. It’s a rarity for you to come to me, you’re too proud.”

“I don’t need this right now. Please, just...what has John told you?”

“From what I gather, you’ve fallen in love. I didn’t think you were capable of that.”

“You’re one to talk...and I’m not in love. I just….”

“That ‘caring is not an advantage’ tactic of yours is so transparent. You are afraid of commitment so you run. You always run. And what has that done for you?”

Mycroft was silent.

“You say that shielding yourself protects you, but it only leaves you more vulnerable. You’re destroying yourself, pretending like you aren’t human to avoid having your heart broken. Well that’s the thing isn’t it...you are human, and you’re only breaking your own heart by watching everything you’ve ever wanted fly away. If you don’t catch it, you’ll lose it.”

“How will I know it’s ok to speak up? Hmm? You can’t sit there and talk to me about not pursuing what my heart tells me. My heart has lied to me before. You of all people should know what that’s like. And who are you to judge me for that? It took you years before you told John and then you continued to ignore your feelings after that until John knocked some sense into you. What does he see in you anyway? How did you of all people manage to have someone like John fall for you?”

“John didn’t fall for me. I fell and he caught me.”

Mycroft swore he heard a hint of laughter through some sniffles. He had never heard his brother talk about anyone like that. Sure, he had heard John tell numerous stories about their relationship, but never once had Sherlock spoken so openly to him. He wanted to punch him for all the accusations, but there was a tiny part inside of him that looked up to Sherlock. He had watched him grow up so much ever since meeting John. The two of them really were perfect for each other. As much as he hated to admit it, Mycroft wanted that. 

“You’ve never been honest with me like that? What’s changed?”

“It’s like you always say, Mycroft. There’s a time when you have to grow up. Dreams don’t just come true on their own. There’s no purpose in waiting because it isn’t going to happen. It won’t unless you make it.”

“I've never said this before, and I will deny it if you ever mention it, but I’m scared. I really am.”

“That’s good. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t.”

“When did you get so smart?”

“I may have picked up on a few things from John. The man’s such a romantic. Always dreaming. Always reaching beyond what he thinks would be possible. He never gives up.”

“I see where Jesse gets it.”

“He’s a good kid. Stubborn though.”

“And where do you think he gets that?” Mycroft laughed. “You’re a good father, Sherlock.”

“You are the world to him, you know. I know he’s had his head up your ass lately, but he just wants you to be happy. And I do too..." he cleared his throat. "And from what he’s told me, this Greg seems like a great person.”

“He is.”

" It’s time to move on, Mycroft. Don’t let this one go.”

\------------------------------------------

Mycroft spotted Greg amongst the swarm of teenagers congregated around the snack table. The big doofus was busy stuffing his face with gummy bears. He lived in his own little world sometimes, but that’s what Mycroft admired most about him. Sherlock was right, it was time to stop being afraid and make something out of his life before it was too late.


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey Greg?” Mr. Lestrade and Eli were occupying themselves by taking selfies in the back of the gym when Mycroft approached them.

“Oh we look good,” Eli winked. 

“Mr. Lestrade, may I speak with you?” 

Greg looked up from admiring Eli’s photo gallery and smiled, “Ay, Mr. Holmes. What's up?”

“It's kind of a private matter,” Mycroft bit his lip and hoped that Greg wouldn’t interrogate him. 

“Yea, sure,” he turned to Eli and whispered something about how he had skipped out on detention and Mycroft wanted to conference with him.

Eli’s response was abnormally positive as if she could sense what was going on, but, much to Mycroft’s relief, she did nothing to expedite Greg’s suspicion. She merely grinned and told Mr. Lestrade to catch up with her later. Mr. Holmes led the way into the hallway and down towards the stairwell where they would be out of sight and earshot from nosy high school students. 

“What's going on?” Greg cocked his head, “Are you ok?”

“No, I don't think I am,” Mycroft bit his lip, “There's been something I've been meaning to say to you, but I never could put it into words. But after another restless night, I decided it was now or never, I have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I can't do this anymore.”

“Do what anymore?”

“Just seeing you, acting like everything is normal, it makes me sick to my stomach. I don't want to feel the way I do, but I can't stop thinking about you. I was an idiot before, I thought I was making the right decision by stopping things before they could even start. I thought that pursuing a relationship would be unprofessional-or rather that was my excuse. I tried to make it seem more rational, but that's not why I called it off. I was scared. Terrified really. I didn't want to screw things up because I really liked you...I still really like you.”

“I like you too,” his response was immediate.

“Even after what happened? I thought that would've destroyed any chance of us ya know...”

“Mycroft, I knew there was something between us since the moment I saw you. That's probably the most cliche thing I've ever said, but it's true. If anything, what happened was my fault. I jump into things too quickly and I always end up ruining it.”

“You did nothing wrong. I'm just...I have issues trusting people. I have difficulties opening up probably because I'm self-conscious. I've always been behind closed doors, and I don't want that anymore. I want things to be different, but I don't know how to fix it.”

“No one ever said love was easy. There's always going to be obstacles, we will work through them.”

“Love?” Mycroft was shocked more than anything. 

“Well” Greg looked back and forth between his friend’s eyes and lips for a few seconds before giving in, “Fuck it,” he grabbed Mycroft by the waist and pulled him close so that he could kiss him. 

Mr. Holmes didn't hesitate, he nearly melted. When they parted, their eyes were locked in a loving gaze. 

“I'm in love with you, Mycroft Holmes,” he cupped the other man’s cheek with his hand.

Mycroft said nothing.

“I have my own share of problems. I know what it's like, so don't worry. We will take things slow, and I promise to respect your boundaries. It's a process, but it's one I'm willing to work through,” Greg smiled.

“Sherlock was right.”

“About what?”

“He told me I was only hurting myself by running away. It was time I grew up. Now I know how he felt when he met John.”

“Special?”

“Human.”

\---------------------

“Ay Uncle Myc!” 

Mycroft flinched when he spotted his nephew skipping towards him and Mr. Lestrade upon their return to the gymnasium. He quickly pulled back his hand which had previously been clasped tight with Greg’s, and he stuffed it into his coat pocket. Despite his friend’s objection, Mycroft was not ready to go public. 

“Where have ya been? You missed the conga line.”

“Oh darn! Maybe next time…” Greg exclaimed. 

“Yea, sorry, bud,” Mycroft ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Seriously though, where did you guys go? Aren't you supposed to be chaperoning?”

“Just a quick trip to the restroom,” his uncle replied.

“Together?” The child’s eyes narrowed and Mycroft shuffled uncomfortably.

“Ay, when you gotta go, you gotta go,” Greg shrugged. 

“You know you don't have to lie to me. I'm a teenager, I pick up on this stuff pretty quickly,” Jesse said no more and ran off somewhere, leaving Mycroft frozen.

“Well so much for keeping this a secret. That little bastard is going to spread this like wildfire,” Mr. Holmes said solemnly. 

“You can't expect to hide forever you know.”

“I know. I just..”

“Hey, look at me,” Greg grabbed his arm, “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I suppose you have some experience with this then?”

“I'm not going to stand here and act like I'm not scared. That would be pointless. But what I am going to do is take your hand and give you this piece of advice...Life is not a group project. What you do with your own life is all you, it doesn't matter one bit what anyone else thinks as long as you are happy. You are a beautiful person, and it pains me to think that you can't see it. You've dedicated yourself to enriching other people’s lives at the expense of yourself, but you don't have to give up your freedom for conformity,” he squeezed the other man’s hand,”so come on, this is a high school dance.”

“So?”

“So,” Greg smiled, “Dance with me.”


End file.
